Murphy's Law
by Ashana
Summary: G1 AU  Grace is guarding an abandoned, and possibly radioactive, bunker in the middle of nowhere. She doesn't know why, and she doesn't particularly care, but adventure has a funny way of sneaking up on those who want it least...
1. Prologue: Self Satisfaction

**Murphy's Law**

**Prologue: Self Satisfaction**

Agent Reggie Simmons was in a good mood. He strolled down the hall, peeking into rooms at random and generally enjoying the bustling atmosphere that invaded the closing base. Scientists and government agents rushed around as they packed their belongings and double-checked the systems security. Their faces were tight with worry, though Simmons couldn't fathom why. After all, it was a blessing that they were leaving these buildings. He was rather tired to seeing nothing but desert and scrub brush, and the hour-long drive into town was rather tiring, especially since his Lamborghini wasn't meant to drive on rough dirt roads.

He paused outside the door to the largest room in the underground base. This room had almost been emptied, and only a handful or scientists remained checking over the subjects and the computers. Simmons walked into the center of the room and stared up at it's biggest occupant, a smirk working across his face. He had sounded big and threatening, but their bodies weren't meant to withstand cold, and a few cases of liquid nitrogen had quieted him down.

The big red and blue robot, who had called himself Optimus Prime, watched the man move about the room with empty optics. He wasn't dead; the scientists had detected radiation coming off him and his comrades after the liquid nitrogen had done its job. They were just asleep, in what one of the agents called a permanent coma. No human in their right mind would turn up the heat and awaken them, and if everything went right no other humans would ever find this place.

Simmons gave the room one last look. Including the self-proclaimed leader there were five of the robots in here, all strapped to tables that were tilted so the robots could almost stand. Each was hooked up to a machine with thick wires and tubes, which were measuring the computer waves coming from the robots heads. The information was all being sent via a new type of secure government radio waves, and even with its proven usefulness, the agent was doubtful that this 'internet' thing would ever catch on.

The scientists finished packing up their equipment and checked the computers one more time before leaving the room, pushing carts of electronics with them. Simmons took one last look at the five robots and allowed himself a large grin. The mech closest to him – a large red creature with a harsh face and a name like 'Iron-side' or 'Steel-hide' had threatened him when they first landed.

"Who's laughing now?" Simmons asked, his voice echoing around the vast metal room. The robot didn't answer. Feeling oddly buoyant, he bounced out of the room. The lights flicked off behind him, plunging the aliens in darkness, and the door slid shut with a heavy thunk and an ominous click of a lock engaging. The last of the scientists were waiting at the lift at the end of the hall, along with the rear guards, who were fingering their rifles and looking eager to be away from the aliens. Simmons joined them, boarded the lift and watched as the last of the lights in the base flickered, then went dark.

A hundred feet above the base, the lift stopped and they stepped out into a brightly lit hanger. The lift disappeared into the floor, and a slab of concrete connected to a series of hydraulics moved to cover it. The scientists and remaining agents were loading the trucks outside the hanger with the equipment, all of it covered with thick tarps to protect government secrets from prying eyes. Simmons spotted his boss, Jonathan Murphy, standing near by and sidled up to him.

"Everything's locked down tight, sir," he reported as they watched the others work.

Murphy, an older man with graying hair and a bristling mustache, nodded. "Good," he muttered, eyes scraping over the horizon for interlopers.

"How is the cover story coming?" Simmons asked eagerly.

The man pointed at some barrels that were being unloaded from a nearby van. Each was bright yellow and had a red 'WARNING – RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL' label on the side. "We strew those about and nobody in their right minds will come in here."

Simmons nodded eagerly, hoping to impress his new boss. "That's brilliant!" He watched as the agents began to carry the barrels to strategic and easy-to-see spots around the hanger. "But – there will still be a guard around, right?"

Murphy scoffed. "Of course," he gave the man a scathing look. "We would not leave this place without at least one human touch." He pointed to the new cement guard shack that had been placed at the only road in and out of the fenced-in compound. Simmons face fell, and the older agent resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Simmons was like an eager-to-please puppy, who was discouraged much to quickly. He clapped the man on the back and steered him towards the cars. "C'mon, lets get out of this damn desert. There's a malt shop in town that's not too shabby..."

Simmons beamed once more – maybe 1984 wouldn't be such a bad year after all.

* * *

><p>A short prologue to a longer story! Hope y'all enjoyed, and please review so I know whether or not anybody is interested in this story!<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: 2014

**Murphy's Law**

**Chapter 1: 2014**

The collection of squat little buildings was not what she had been expecting. There were four of them; old and rusted airplane hangers with weeds crawling up the side and holes in the walls. The whole thing was surrounded by ten foot tall chain fence, which was topped with curly barbed wire and security cameras. Settled against the inside of the fence, beside the little concrete guard shack, was an RV that had seen better days, as well as a bright blue port-a-potty.

Grace slowed her VW Bug to a crawl as she approached the fence, and wondered if it was too late to back out of this job. Maybe, if she turned around right now, she could get back to the small town she had passed and get on the next plane back to Portland. Just as she started to put the car in reverse, however, a man walked around the side of the RV and waved at her. He opened the gate and she grudgingly rolled her car through, parking beside the camper.

The man, who was walking with a cane, stumped around the car and held the door open for her. Under the guise of fumbling with her purse, she managed to get a good look at him. He was older, in his late sixties or so, and wearing thick suit that must have been sweltering in this heat. Despite that, not a drop of sweat marred his brow, and his thin, salt-and-pepper hair was neatly in place.

"You are Grace Dodds?" He asked as she got out of the car.

She nodded. "And you must be Mr. Simmons?"

The gentleman chuckled and shook his head, both hands posed on the top of his cane as though he was modeling for a suit commercial. "No, no, my dear. I am Jonathan Murphy, former head of this compound. Mr. Simmons is fixing the air conditioner in the RV." He glanced at the camper, the door of which was open. A lot of swearing could be heard from inside.

"Doesn't sound like he's having any luck," Grace pointed out after shaking his hand.

"Quite." Murphy looked through the window of her Bug, noting the cardboard boxes and suitcases stacked haphazardly in place. "You are prepared to stay for the summer, then?"

Grace nodded, having packed everything she could in the car after wiggling out of the lease on her apartment. The job was an odd one – a full time guard job which would require her to stay on location. But at least the RV looked modern, and she could keep herself occupied through the hot summer days. A bang from the RV pulled Murphy's attention away from the bulk package of instant coffee that had been shoved in her passenger seat, and a louder-than-normal curse issued from the camper. Murphy reached out and placed a hand on Grace's shoulder, gently turning her away from the camper.

"How about I give you the grand tour?" He suggested, as the air conditioner fell out of the window and shattered against the dirt. Wincing at the sound, Grace nodded and followed him towards the hangers. There were four of them, all lined up in a row with the large doors facing the gate. Each had a number hanging over the doors, from one to four. "These are the hangers," he waved his cane at them. "They're what you'll be guarding."

Grace looked at the rusted sheet metal, the caving in roofs, the discarded and rusting barrels that had once been painted a bright yellow but now looked a sickly brown, and couldn't help herself. "Um, why?"

"Nosy, aren't you?" Murphy flashed her a not-so-kind grin. "Government secret, girl. You aren't cleared to know." He pointed to one of the windows, which was plastered with dust and dirt. "There isn't anything in these hangers, but Russia doesn't know that."

The woman was befuddled. She had given up her entire summer to guard some empty buildings? Grace walked up to the window he had pointed at and rubbed away a circle of dust, which quickly turned her palm brown. She peered through the glass and saw that he was correct; there wasn't a single thing in the hanger.

"I don't understand," she finally admitted. "If it's empty, why does it matter if other countries know about it?"

"It's the principal of the thing, m'dear," Murphy leaned heavily on his cane. "This compound was shut down in 1984, thirty-years ago this August. Hasn't been bothered since. Lately, however, there have been signs of someone snooping around." He turned and stumped back towards the camper. "We want a human presence around to discourage them from coming closer."

"So I'm not actually guarding anything?"

He gave her a big smile, which seemed false and out-of-place on his weathered face, and shook his head. "Haven't I just told you, Grace. You're guarding these buildings." He spoke as though to a young child. "As well as the secret that they're empty."

Grace, completely bewildered, stayed silent and followed him back to the camper. If it weren't for the promise of a thousand dollar weekly paycheck, she would have gotten straight in her car and bolted. Luckily, she was distracted by Agent Simmons.

He was a tall, skinny, slick-looking man with a mane of curly brown hair and an altogether unpleasant face. As they approached, he stood with the remains of a mangled air conditioner in his hand, destroyed beyond recognition. He dumped it on the picnic table set beside the door of the camper and dusted his hands off on his slacks.

"Well, it's dead." He said by way of introduction, offering Grace his hand. She shook it for only a moment before placing her hands behind her back and wiping the grease off on her jeans. "Sorry kid, you'll have to deal with the heat until we can get a replacement up here."

The woman's jaw dropped. "Are you joking? It has to be at least in the triple digits, and it's not even half-way through May!"

"Well I can't just pull one out of thin air," Simmons said, giving her a nasty look down his nose. Not for the first time, Grace bemoaned her height of 5'3. It was much too easy for people to do exactly what this smarmy agent was doing.

"Now, now, Simmons," Murphy was there, leaning on his cane and smiling. "I believe you bought yourself a nice, fancy air conditioner just before we drove out here?" He pointed to the truck sitting beside the camper. It was large, black with silver trim, and had a big box tied down in the bed.

The agent's face went red and blotchy. "Yes, I bought it for _myself_," he snapped.

"Did you keep the receipt?" Murphy still had that pleasant, scheming smile on his face.

"Well, yes..."

"Then you'll get reimbursed. Now help Miss Dodds get it out of the truck and into the camper." He looked at the woman. "Will you be able to install it yourself? Agent Simmons and I have some other errands to run today."

Grace nodded. "Sure, no problem." She followed Simmons to the truck and watched as he pulled down the tailgate. "Compensating for something?" She asked lightly, tugging the box towards herself and appraising the picture of the high-end air conditioner on the front.

"Watch it, Rookie," he snarled, taking the other end and helping her lift it from the bed. "One word from me and your out of here and in Guantanamo sucking green beans through a straw." Ignoring Grace's snort of laughter, he led the way to the picnic table and dropped his end of the box on it with a clunk.

"Thank you for the welcome gift, agent," Grace slid the box the rest of the way on the table.

Murphy, ignoring the jab at his most loyal agent, face the girl and handed her a folder from his jacket. "There are your instructions, plus the codes for the security cameras and computers. There is strong internet access, as well as a Netflix account set up for you. Make sure you patrol the compound visibly every few hours. You're allowed to leave the compound twice a week for shopping, just make sure the extra cameras are activated before you leave, and that you lock the gate." He pointed to the key tucked into the folder. "An Agent will drop off your check and pick up your reports every Monday morning. The shower in the RV works, but I would suggest using the outhouse instead of the toilet," he pointed to the porta-potty. "The company will come by and clean it every weekend." He gave her a stern look. "Any questions?"

"None that you can answer." Grace flipped through the paperwork in the file, and pulled out his business card. "If I think of anything important, I'll give you a call." She promised.

"Good." Murphy gave a jerky nod, and offered her his hand. "Nice meeting you, Miss Dodds. Good luck." After shaking hands, he turned and stumped back to the car, leaning heavily on his cane.  
>Simmons gave her a nasty look, but also shook her hand. "Yes, good luck Miss Dodds. Don't screw up." He followed his boss, started the car, and they were gone.<p>

Grace pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, viewing the camper and the air conditioner. "Well, Gracie, lets see what you got yourself into."

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you wearing?"<p>

Grace looked up from her book and smiled at Agent Simmons, who had just driven up and used his own key to get through the gate. She had strung up a hammock beneath the roll-out awning of the camper, and was currently relaxing in the shade with the newest Stephen King novel.

"Hello to you too," she swung her legs over the side of the hammock and sat up, stretching.

"Ugh," Simmons frowned at her belly button. "I'll ask again: what the _hell _are you wearing?"

The woman looked down at herself and shrugged. She had exchanged her t-shirt and jeans for a red tank top and mid-thigh length shorts. Her hair, which a week before had fallen to the small of her back, had been chopped into a pixie cut and was covered with a bandana the same color as her shirt.

"Clothes?" She guessed, standing.

"Barely!" Simmons threw the file folders he was holding on the picnic table. "Those are not the appropriate clothes for a military guard to be wearing."

"But I'm not a military guard," she reminded him, marking her place in the book and throwing it in the hammock. "I'm a college campus guard who got roped into a weird top secret government job. Besides, it's in the triple digits. Nobody in their right mind would be snooping around the place today. And if they did," she turned, letting him see the .9mm handgun tucked into her belt, "they would be sorry." She continued on to the stairs and climbed into the camper. "Would you like a glass of lemonade?" Not waiting for him to answer, she disappeared inside. Grudgingly, he followed.

The inside of the camper was much cooler than the outside, thanks to the large, fancy air conditioner that had been set up in the small kitchenette. There was a pair of booth-seats and a fold down table across from it, and between the kitchenette and the drivers seat was a long desk with three monitors set up, all watching different security cameras. At the opposite end of the camper was the bathroom, and a pair of bunk beds which were bolted to the walls. The floor was covered with cream-colored carpet, and the walls were a light-colored paneled wood. Grace had added a few posters and pictures on the walls, and had her own laptop sitting on the loveseat beside the passengers chair, which faced the monitors and also gave a good view of the wall-mounted TV above them. If it wasn't for the fact that she was using his 'borrowed' air conditioner to keep the place comfortable, Simmons would have felt very at home.

"Here's your paycheck," he threw the folder down on the table. "Where's your report?"

She pressed a cold glass of drink into his hand and then sat down on the loveseat. "Just a sec, I have to print it." She typed away for a moment, and then the printer on the desk chugged to life. It printed half a dozen words before spitting out a piece of paper. Grace placed the paper in a folder and handed it to him. "There you go. Anything we need to discuss?"

"No." Simmons place the full glass of lemonade down on the table. "Bye," with that he turned and marched stiffly out of the camper. Grace watched him leave, truck kicking up dust as it sped away from the compound, and turned to smile at her computer. The six-word report smiled back.

_All quiet on the western front._

* * *

><p>By the time Grace had accepted her fourth paycheck (had it really been a month already?) she had exhausted her small collection of books, finished her Netflix play list, and had created and burned at least twenty Sims on her computer (most of whom bore a striking resemblance to a certain agent). She took more and more walks around the compound, peeking into the windows of the empty hangers as often as she dared. Once or twice she had thought she had heard something from hanger number four, but nothing ever came of it. Still, she grew more wary as the weeks went on. It wasn't until she had finished re-reading Needful Things (another King novel) that she decided to do something about her ever growing curiosity.<p>

Flashlight in hand (despite the few bouts of rain the last week, the windows remained as thick with dirt as ever), she went to hanger number four and pried the door open. It came loose with a creak and a cloud of rust, which sent her into a coughing fit. Pushing the door open all the way and propping it there with a stone, she gave the wind a moment to exchange the hot, trapped air inside with the some-what cooler 105 degree air outside. Once the smell of decay and rotting metal cleared, she ventured inside.

The hanger was at least an acre large, meant for smaller aircraft or vehicles than most military bases. Grace swept her light around the walls, which revealed nothing but more rust and a huddle of dust bunnies and spiders in one corner. She crouched and wiped away part of the floor with her hand; it was all poured concrete. Walking slowly and shining her light into every corner of the room, she finally found what she was looking for. Above one of the back windows was a hole, which had rusted through the metal right where the tin roof met the steel walls. She stopped beneath it and bounced the light around the peaked ceiling, which was riddled with thin rafters to keep the weak metal from collapsing in on itself. She had a feeling the roof had been a patch job or an afterthought, because no one in their right mind would use tin in a government building unless they were in a hurry or their was no other choice. She became lost in thought, and didn't notice when the light reflected off something red.

There was an angry screech, and two-dozen bats opened their eyes and joined in. Grace, snapped out of her musings and suddenly the target of twenty-four (plus or minus a few) flying rats, screamed in surprise as they swarmed towards her. She dropped to the ground, glad she had chopped off all her hair, and covered her head with her hands. There was the sound of wings, and something brushed against her spine, and then nothing but silence.

After a minute, she lifted her head and looked around. The bats, having found their home disturbed, had taken wing out of the hole above the window and were escaping into the afternoon, presumably to find somewhere else to finish sleeping. She crawled shakily to her feet and leaned against the wall, coughing up dust and wiping at her eyes. Ever since she had watched an Animal Planet special on bats and learned that they were the number one carrier of rabies in the United States, they had made her nervous.

Grace barely had any warning before she violently sneezed, and she reached for the wall to regain her balance as her head reeled. Her fingers brushed the metal, and pushed against it. For a moment the metal panel held her up, before it sunk a few centimeters into the wall. Certain she had broken something, she turned to look at the place her hand was. A square of metal had sunk into the wall, and when she removed her fingers it slowly popped back out. She took a step back and stared at the square. What was a hidden button doing in an abandoned airplane hanger?

The floor beneath her feet gave a violent jerk, and Grace fell onto her backside with a rather undignified squawk. She sat up in time to see the concrete she had just been standing on sink into the floor and slide away. A lift, covered in a thin film of dust but rust-less and operating without a hitch, rose into sight.

The woman stood and approached the lift, which had stopped level with the floor and was obviously waiting for further instructions. She ran a hand along the grate over the front, then tugged it open. The air that had accompanied smelled stale and old. Stepping back, Grace peered through the cracks between the floor and the lift, but everything beneath it was dark.

Without allowing herself time to think, she stepped into the lift and closed the grate. There was a button on one of the four struts that made up the frame, and she hesitated only a moment before pressing it. The lift obediently rattled to life, descending beneath the building. Grace watched the concrete pass by her eyes without much fear; if anything dangerous were down here, the government would have added pass codes and eyeball scanners. There was probably nothing but empty storage space beneath the empty storage buildings.

After nearly two minutes of rattling, and at least two-hundred feet beneath the hanger, the lift came to a stop. Wherever it had stopped, it was pitch black and Grace had to fumble her cell phone open to light it up. The light from the LED screen, however, barely showed anything. Berating herself for leaving her flashlight up above, she pocketed her phone and started the lift again.

If she was going to explore a secret underground government facility, she was at least going to do it right.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Note: <strong>Yes, the characters are from G1. I did, however, take two things from the movies: Simmons (who is so much fun to write) and the Cybertronians aversion to cold (which is also mentioned in Prime and G1). All the Transformer characters, however, are based off their G1 selves.

Also, PLEASE REVIEW! :D


	3. Chapter 2: 200 Feet Below

**Murphy's Law**

**Chapter 2: 200+ Feet Below**

Grace ran through her backpack one more time, checking it against the list she had hastily written up. Water bottle, check. Extra flashlight and batteries, check. Granola bars, rope, extra ammo, check. The first aid kit from under the sink, check. Extra bandanas and socks, check.

She picked up the bag (a fake leather knapsack she had gotten that always made her feel like Indiana Jones on an adventure) and threw it over her shoulder. Her .9mm was in its holster, fully loaded, and the smaller of her two flashlights was sticking out of her back pocket. She'd eaten a quick lunch (or was it dinner after four o'clock?) and left a message on her computer for Simmons or Murphy to find when they visited on Monday, just in case she became trapped or turned up dead. There was also the possibility of getting lost – who knew how big the underground portion of this compound was?

After gulping down a Red Bull, she left the camper and headed back to hanger number 4. The door, which was still propped open, creaked in the wind as she approached. She entered the hanger and let it swing shut behind her, leaving her in dim, dust filtered light. The lift was still there, sitting quite innocently on the opposite side of the building. Grace hurried towards it before she could rethink her plan and hopped in. It was Wednesday, and nobody would be by to check on her until Monday. That gave her more than enough time to explore this oddity and then cover her tracks. She punched the button and watched as the concrete floor crawled past her eyes.

Two-hundred feet later, the lift clunked to a stop and she was staring into the dark hall. She stayed where she was for a few minutes, holding her breath and straining her ears. It was cooler down here than above, by at least twenty degrees. When nothing disastrous happened, she flipped on her flashlight and pointed it down the hall.

The hall, which was at least a hundred feet high, had only three doors; one on each side of the hall directly across from each other, and the third at the end. Each was towering, nearly touching the ceiling, and for a moment Grace was sure they had been developing double-decker tanks for use in the Middle East down here. Why else would they need such huge doors?

When her flashlight didn't stir anything from the shadows (she didn't want a repeat of the bat incident) she opened the grate on the lift and stepped out. The air, while musty and sour, was at least cool, and her footsteps were muffled by a thin layer of dust on the floor. She walked to the end of the hall and back, sweeping every corner with her light. It was completely empty of any other living thing.

She stopped in front of the door on the right side of the hall and poked at the keypad beside it. The display screen didn't light up, no matter how many times she smashed the green 'open' button. After a moment of randomly hitting buttons, she slammed a frustrated fist against the keypad. There was a creak of sleeping gears, and the massive door slid open.

Grace jumped back as dust and dirt rained down from the shaking door. It slid into the wall with a roar of rusty gears, and the hall was deadly silent and still once more. Clutching her chest (she was sure she would give herself a heart attack before the day was out), she ventured into the first room.

It was huge, and her light barely penetrated the thick darkness. Not only that, it was _freezing._ The room had to be at least at freezing, if not lower. She swept the flashlight along the wall by the door and immediately saw what she was looking for – a light switch and a heater knob. Without thinking, she turned the knob into the 'on' position, and somewhere below an ancient heater clunked to life. She flipped the light on and the fluorescence overhead buzzed to life. Blinking back the bright dots in her eyes, she flicked off her flashlight and turned to face the room.

Robots.

Giant robots.

Giant, standing, staring, robots.

With guns.

The flashlight hit the floor and shattered, sounding like a gunshot in the thick silence. Grace stumbled back, hands clapped over her mouth, and stared at the five robots. They were strapped to tables that were tilted almost upright, reminding her of scenes from Frankenstein movies. Their eyes flashed blue in the fluorescent lights, and for a moment she was sure they were watching her every move.

When they didn't move or respond to her and her noises, Grace finally calmed down. Their eyes weren't watching her; they were just reflecting the light. She dropped her hands and stepped farther into the room, kicking the shattered remains of her flashlight away. The robots were huge, the smallest at least forty feet. The biggest was red and blue, and was strapped to the center table with some kind of metal band. To his right was a black-and-white robot with odd wings sticking out of his back. Beside the wing robot was a white one with red crosses on his shoulders. On the big robots left side was another black and white robot with a visor over his face, like wrap-around sunglasses from the eighties. On his side was a red and rather mean-looking robot who had some type of gun or grenade launcher on his arm.

When none of them reacted to her staring, she wandered around and looked up at each of them in turn. Beside each was some kind of diagnostic computer, but all of them had shorted out years ago, and the wires had been coiled up and neatly placed on the machines. Beside the biggest robot was a step ladder, and Grace found she couldn't resist. Climbing up on it carefully, she reached out and touched the robots blue foot with a hesitant hand. She yelped and quickly pulled her hand back; the metal was _warm_. She reached out and touched it again, just to be sure. The metal was a few degrees warmer than the air in the room. Shuddering at the odd feel, she jumped off the ladder and hurried out of the room, leaving the light on to illuminate the hall.

She stopped to warm up in the hall, downing half a bottle of water and rubbing her arms until the feeling came back into her limbs. Her eyes kept wandering back to the room with the giant robots, but none of them moved or spoke. Perhaps they were meant to have a pilot, or be controlled from afar like an remote control plane. Her mind couldn't help but draw a connection between 'giant robots' and 'Japanese cartoons,' and she let out a nervous giggle.

"Okay, get a grip. They're just hunks of metal." She put her backpack back on and looked at the second door. It had the same keypad as the first, and after a well-placed hit the door trundled open. It was the same as the first room; large and dark and freezing cold. Feeling against the wall, she found the light switch and the heater knob, and turned both on.

This room was the same size as the other, and had the same kind of occupants. Five robots, slightly smaller and less impressive than the ones in the first room, were strapped to tilted tables and watching the room with dead glass eyes. On the left was a small yellow one, only twice Grace's height, which for some reason made her feel better. Beside him was a red one of the same size. They both seemed similar in shape, and had horns on their heads. In the middle of the group was another giant robot, this one a deep gray with the same wings as the black and white one. On the table next to him was a red mech with shining paint and a smirk on his face, even in sleep or coma or whatever they were doing. The last in the line was a slightly smaller, boxy green mech with some kind of missile on his shoulder.

That was ten robots in all. Grace wandered around the room, noting the same shorted-out machines, and found a step stool by the small yellow robot. She climbed up and reached out to touch his hand. The metal was warmer, just like the red and blue robots, and she marveled at the detail in his fingers and wrist. When the cold began to bite at her again, she left the room, leaving the door standing open to help it warm up quicker. She wondered absently why they would keep the rooms so cold; it was surely wasting money.

Grace munched on a granola bar and glanced down at her watch as she warmed up in the hall. She had been down here nearly and hour and a half, and had already explored two of the rooms. There was only one to go. Pulling out her back-up flashlight, she approached the last door.

This door slid open when she pressed the green 'enter' button, not asking for a code. The flashlight bounced off the railing of a catwalk, and she carefully tested her weight before stepping onto it. A light switch had been placed beside the door and she happily turned it on.

This room was the biggest of all, and actually looked like an airplane hanger. At least ten-stories tall, the room was empty except for what looked like the skeleton of some metal beast. The catwalk she was standing on went all along the wall, and a set of stairs descended to the floor at the far end. The catwalk was wide enough for the robots to stand on, but she didn't see how they could get down the human-sized stairs. She walked along it, staring at the metal creature that had been dismantled beneath her. She couldn't help but think of a whale or a turtle – it had a large, rounded shape. The outer metal had been peeled away, revealing the curved frame. Most of the metal was covered with some kind of blue-green dust.

She carefully descended the stairs, which were slick with dust, and wandered around the floor. The metal was slick at her hands, except for where the blue-green dust was. She poked at it with her finger and it flaked off, like rust. Wiping her hands on her shorts, she did a loop around the room, then wandered in and out of the metal skeleton. She spent over an hour exploring the beast, stooping under the curves of metal that remained and running her hands along the odd surfaces.

When her wristwatch beeped the hour, she jumped and nearly hit her head. She scrambled out from under the frame and looked at the time; it was nine o'clock already. Gathering her stuff together, she pulled out the last granola bar and munched on it as she ascended the stairs. There would be time tomorrow to explore the metal frame more, as well as the mysterious robots. As she approached the door to the hall, however, something stopped her.

The blood drained from her face and her stomach did an odd flip before dropping to her toes. There were sounds coming from the hall, which could mean only one thing: Simmons and Murphy had found her. She would be fired, and maybe Simmons would follow through on his threat and send her to Guantanamo. Grace covered her mouth with her hand to calm her breathing – she didn't even _like _green beans!

Maybe if they went into one of the rooms she could sneak past and take the lift up. It wouldn't be very hard to sneak around the back of the compound and pretend she was chasing out some prairie dogs or groundhogs. They were destructive little critters, and quite common in the desert. She took a deep breath and looked around the corner of the doorway, hoping to see only a human walking into one of the rooms. However, something completely different was waiting for her.

A robot.

A giant robot.

A giant, standing, staring robot.

With a gun.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Teehee, I am evil. The next chapter will be longer, I swear! I'll make it ESPECIALLY LONG if I get some awesome REVIEWS! :D


	4. Chapter 3: Slip Up

**Important Note: **_Strapped_, not stripped. They were _strapped _to the table. Don't worry though, for those of you looking for dead bots and gratuitous violence, there will be plenty in later chapters!

* * *

><p><strong>Murphy's Law<strong>

**Chapter 3: Slip Up**

The optics, which had only an hour ago been dark and lifeless, were blazing bright blue, and met her gaze with as much surprise as her own brown eyes possessed. They stared at each other for what felt like eternity, neither knowing quite what to do. Grace shifted her weight onto her back leg, and the robot snapped out of his stupor. He (she was guessing it was a he, anyway. Giant killer robots did seem like a male thing) raised his gun and Grace found herself sprinting for the stairs, trying to wrestle her own .9mm out of it's holster.

She was almost at the bottom of the stairs when her old, tread-less sneakers flew out from under her. With a choked cry, she threw out her hands and managed to keep herself from a glorious face plant against the concrete. A bad pain shot up her arm, but she ignored it in favor of scrambling to her feet and searching for her gun, which she had dropped during the fall.

An echoing crash reminded her of why she was running in the first place. She turned to stare up at the catwalk, and saw the robot staring down at her. He was the shorter one, painted red and adorned with little horns on his head. The stairs were just a bit out of proportion for him, but it didn't seem that would deter him from killing her. He grasped the railing and leapt _over _it, free-falling the fifty or so feet to the ground and landing in a rather impressive crouch. Had Grace been holding a scorecard, she would have given him a ten. Instead, she was staring down the massive barrel of a huge gun, and felt like fainting or screaming. She wasn't sure which.

"Where are the others?" The robot demanded, shoving the gun (or was it a rocket launcher?) against her chest.

Grace went oddly pale at the question. He could talk? _They _could talk? What was this, some artificial intelligence experiment gone wrong?

"I asked you a question!" The robot continued to press her with the gun, and in response Grace backed up. All too soon she was cornered against the wall. She looked up at the blue eyes and felt her own fill with tears.

"Please don't kill me," she squeaked quietly.

The robot, who looked equally disturbed and disgusted by her tears, was saved from answering by the arrival of the other short robot. He hurried down the stairs, carefully placing his large feet to avoid falling.

"Cliffjumper, put that away," he snapped as he reached them. The yellow robot grabbed the muzzle of the gun and pulled it away from Grace's chest, and she was certain she would never feel this relieved (or terrified) again in her life. The red robot, Cliffjumper, yanked his gun back and glared at his comrade.

"Shut up Bee," he tried to point the gun at her again, but the yellow robot stopped him. "It's one of _them_. _They _did this to us. Do you have any idea how long we've been shut down?" His voice grew louder with every word, echoing around the vast room and into the hall. "Do you know where the others are? They could be _dead _for all we know!" Grace quite suddenly found the gun shoved against her neck and chin. "What does it matter if I kill it?"

"It matters because you are an Autobot." A new voice, deeper and stronger than the two small robots, spoke from the catwalk. All three turned and looked up to see the giant red and blue robot watching them, arms crossed over his chest. "Stand down, Cliffjumper."

The red robot hesitated a moment, before pulling his gun back and somehow making it disappear from sight. "Yes sir," he grunted, keeping his angry eyes on the girl.

The big robot nodded in approval. "Bumblebee, stay here with the human. Cliffjumper, come with me." He turned and left the room, and Cliffjumper stomped up the stairs to follow, grumbling all the while.

Her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight, Grace slid to the floor and dropped her head onto her knees. The yellow robot stood back for a moment, letting her catch her breath, before reaching out to touch her shoulder. She leapt a foot in the air at the contact and stared at him, not able to fathom what was going to happen next.

Bumblebee gave her a strained but sincere smile. "Don't worry, Cliffjumper's the worst. The rest of us are pretty nice." He had found her backpack at the bottom of the stairs and held it out to her. "Here you go."

Grace flinched, but took the bag and fished out her water bottle. She finished half of it in one gulp and replaced it, wishing she had brought more. She also wished she had thought to tuck her .45 Beretta in the side pocket. Well, if wishes her fishes and all that...

The yellow robot was looking at her curiously, but wisely stayed silent. Grace closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall, forcing herself to take deep breaths and willing her heart to stop outpacing the speed of light. The yellow robot sat on the bottom few stairs and simply watched her, something akin to fascination in his glowing blue eyes.

* * *

><p>"Why'd you stop me?" Cliffjumper demanded as he followed his commanding officer into the first room off the hall. Optimus ignored him, and as soon as the red minibot was in the room he shut the door. "It was just a human! And he might have known where the others were!"<p>

Prime rounded on the mech and did his very best to reign in his temper. "So you pointed a gun at his head?" He demanded, and the assembled mechs stopped their murmured conversations in favor of staring at the pair.

"Yeah. If it'll get us answers, then why not?" 'Jumper crossed his arms and glowered up at his leader. They had been in stasis for Primus-knows how long, and he was more than ready to bash in a few skulls. "That human has to be one of _them_ if he's down here!"

"What human?" Jazz, who had been lounging on one of the berths he had set flat, sat up and looked at the minibot. "Is that why you took off running?"

"Yes! There's a human here in the hanger, and he _has _to know where the others are." Cliffjumper ran a finger over the trigger of his re-drawn weapon, eager for confrontation. "We should _make _him tell us what he knows."

"No." Prime reached out and jerked the gun from Cliffjumpers' hand. "We do not threaten innocent organics, Cliffjumper. You know that." He looked around the room. "You _all _know that." He subspaced the gun and glanced at his third in command. "Jazz, have you hacked the wireless communications network yet?"

The mech gave his commander a thumbs up. "Sure have, boss," he answered cheerily. "The humans call it the 'Internet,' and it has _everything_." He beamed at Prowl. "I can has energon?"

"No," the mech said flatly, running through the 'internet' himself. "According to this, it is the year 2014. If my databanks are correct, we arrived here in the year 1984." He looked oddly pale as he gazed at his comrade. "It had been thirty stellar cycles."

"Exactly!" Cliffjumper bellowed, having pulled another big-ass gun out of nowhere. "Who knows what's happened to our comrades! We have to find them."

"Cliffjumper, calm down." Prime entertained the notion of locking down his subordinates subspace, before deciding that they really just didn't have the time. He looked at his second. "Prowl, Jazz, I want you to research what you can about what has happened in the last thirty years. Look for anything that could possibly refer to the Decepticons or our lost comrades."

"No problem, Prime," Jazz chirped happily, and Optimus wondered how the mech could always sound so cheerful, even in the most dire of situations. He reclined on one of the berths and tapped his foot to a beat none of them could hear.

"Optimus?" Hound, who had been standing back with Bluestreak, took a step forward. "Perhaps I could go help Bee with the human? I researched them thoroughly before...well, you know..." He shrugged uncomfortably.

Prime nodded. "Of course. I'm sure they would both appreciate it," he stepped to the side and allowed the green mech to hurry out the door. As soon as the door shut, he looked at his remaining troops. "Alright, lets figure out our next move."

* * *

><p>The next time Grace looked up, there were two robots. She blinked, and the boxy green one smiled at her.<p>

"Hello," he greeted cheerfully, "My name is Hound." Grace made a sound akin to a mouse being trodden on by and elephant, and his smile faded a bit. "Are you alright?"

"No," she answered honestly before lurching to her feet, stumbling a ways along the wall and emptying her stomach on the ground. The yellow bot started after her, but the green one stopped him and shook his head. After a few minutes she stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and blinking tears out of her eyes. She looked back over her shoulder and offered them a weak smile. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, little lady," Hound answered, recognizing her body frame for what it was. He would have actually preferred interacting with a male human – they tended to be made of sterner stuff, and he had much more experience with them. Almost all of the scientists they had worked with before the incident had been male. He motioned for Bee to sit back on the steps and joined him.

Grace watched them warily, not moving from her spot. There was nearly twenty feet between them now, but she was sure they would be able to cross the distance in only a handful of steps if she tried to run. Not to mention they were blocking the only exit out of the room. The silence stretched out between them, and the green robot shifted uneasily.

"M'names Hound," he introduced himself, "and this is Bumblebee." He motioned to the little yellow robot, who nodded in greeting. Grace looked from one to the other, but didn't say anything. "What's your name?"

She hesitated, before figuring that there was nothing they could do with just a name. "Grace."

The yellow one, Bumblebee, smiled. "That's a nice name," he complimented. She gave a small, jerky nod. The green robot shifted, blue-eyes glowing and thoughtful.

"We won't hurt you, Grace," he relaxed back on the steps and gave her what he thought was a comforting smile. The girl didn't relax, but her gaze shifted from completely terrified to carefully curious. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, before deciding there was nothing for it and she was probably going to die anything.

"What _are _you guys?"

"We're Autobots, of course," Hound answered, pointed to the red face-like symbol on his armor. "Didn't your commanding officer brief you before you came here?"

"Commanding officer? Oh, no! No, no, no," Grace waved her hands in front of her, "I'm not a soldier."

"You aren't?" Bee sat up straighter and stared at her intensely, "Then what are you doing down here? And why did you reactivate us?"

"I didn't!" A note of panic clawed it's way into her voice. "I'm sorry about whatever I did to wake you up, but I didn't mean to do it!"

"So you're a civilian?" Hound's voice was quiet and thoughtful. Grace nodded eagerly. "Well that makes this slightly more complicated." Hound reclined on the stairs once more, optics dimming as he lost himself in thought.

Bee gave his comrade a funny look, then turned his attention back to the human. "How did you end up down here if you're a civvie?"

"It was an accident," she confessed. "I was looking around one of the hangers I was supposed to be guarding, and some bats scared me. I hit the wall, and a lift came up out of the floor." She shrugged. "And, well, I'm helpless against curiosity."

"Most humans are," Bee said sagely, but a smile tugged at his lips. "So what did you do when you saw the lift."

"I got some supplies," she motioned to her knapsack, "And came down to explore. I turned one the lights in the first two rooms – is that what woke you up?"

"No," Bee moved to sit on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, which was much more comfortable. "It was the heat."

Realization dawned. "So you were all frozen?" Bee nodded.

"Our bodies can't stand very cold temperatures for very long. It freezes our oil and energon lines. When you turned on the heat, we were able to 'thaw out' and stretch our legs."

"Why were you frozen?" Grace also sat down, still a good distance from the robots. "Why are you even _here_? Does the government know about you? And what exactly are you?"

"Your _government _is the one who did this to us," Hound had sat back up, and was glaring daggers at a spot in the wall above her head. Bee patted his knee reassuringly.

"How about we start from the beginning," he suggested softly to his friend before turning back to the human. "Grace, we're from Cybertron, which is a planet a long ways from here."

"So you're...aliens?" The two bots honestly hadn't thought the human could grow any paler, but she proved them wrong.

"I guess to you, we are," Bee affirmed. "Anyway, we lived on Cybertron, and everything was great. There were plenty of jobs and energon to go around, and for a while everything was perfect. Then a mech decided that he wasn't happy with his life, and decided to do something about it."

"His name was Megatron," Hound interrupted, fiddling with what looked like a rocket launcher on his shoulder. A moment later, Grace jumped out of her skin as a third robot joined them. He was huge, taller than the other two, and almost all white. On his right arm was a large, black bazooka, and his eyes were dark red and angry. The human waited with baited breath, expecting him to move, but the robot just shimmered there. After a moment, he disappeared.

"Was that...did you see that?" She pointed to the spot where the robot had been.

To her surprise, Hound began to laugh. "Sorry," he chuckled, "I should have warned you. That was a hologram." He fiddled with the rocket launcher/projector again, and a silvery ball appeared floating in mid air. It quickly formed peaks and valleys and lights, and metal cities popped up across the surface. "This one is Cybertron," Hound said fondly, and pointed at the largest gathering of light on the planet. "This is Iacon, the capital city of the planet."

"It's beautiful," Grace had to admit, "Why did you leave?"

Both of the robot's faces darkened. "This was a long time ago," Hound sighed, running a hand through the hologram. Immediately the planet changed – large planes of metal collapsed in on the planet, the cities burned into rubble, and the entire sphere seemed to darken. "Megatron decided that he didn't want to be a miner, but instead of training himself in another profession, he decided to start a war. He went to the underground Gladiator rings and beat up whoever he could to prove he was tough. A lot of bots supported him, and soon he was ravaging the planet in order to give himself what he needed to take over. The government in Iacon collapsed, and the world descended into what kindly could be referred to as chaos."

"The war took over the whole planet, not to mention the colonies. Anyone who refused to side with Megatron was killed, even the neutrals, femmes and sparklings." The hologram disappeared and Hound leaned back, a look of deep pain and sadness in his eyes. "There used to be a couple million of us," his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, "Now I'd be surprised if there were a couple hundred." He closed his eyes – it looked like little shutters folded down over them – and didn't speak for several minutes.

"So what happened?" Grace prodded. "You guys don't follow this...this Megatron character, do you?"

"Of course not," Hound scoffed, sitting back up and glaring at her. The human cringed backwards, the the green robot sighed and directed his ire elsewhere. "Megatron and his followers took over much of the planet before we were able to combat them. They named themselves _Decepticons_," he spat the name with such venom that even Bumblebee looked surprised. "But then Megatron attacked a docking station, and he sealed his fate for good." The hologram flickered to life once more, revealing the big blue and red robot that had come into the room earlier. "He attacked a mech named Orion Pax. He was nearly killed, but an ancient mech who knew the old ways of the planets saved him, and he was rebuild as Optimus Prime. He gathered together the forces that were rebelling against Megatron, and under his command the Autobots were born."

Both robots seemed to sit up straighter at this, and for the first time Grace noted the identical red symbols painted on their shoulders and chest. "Is that what those faces mean?" She asked curiously.

Bumblebee nodded, glad she was catching on so fast. "Yes," he leaned forward so she could get a better look at the symbol on his chest. "The Decepticons have a similar symbol, only theirs is normally purple and much more...sharp."

"So what happened? In the war, I mean." Grace straightened her legs and leaned back on her hands, finding her fear of the robots slowly but surely diminishing.

"We ran out of resources," Bee picked up the story. "The colonies had been destroyed, and what Energon reserves there were on Cybertron were drained dry. Optimus Prime launched an expedition to explore the surrounding galaxies and find a way to restore power to Cybertron. He commissioned a pair of scientists – Wheeljack and Perceptor, some of the most brilliant inventors around – to build a ship." He looked sadly around the room and motioned to the odd, rusting metal spread around the large space. "This is all that remains."

Grace looked at the curved piece sitting near her, and reached out to run a hand along the metal. Some of the blue-green rust came off on her fingers, and she examined it closely. Bumblebee continued to speak while she gazed at the metal.

"We were all on the ship," he motioned back to the door at the top of the stairs, "And about twenty more of us as well. But Megatron go wind of our plans and used his own ship to follow us. He attacked, and several of our comrades were lost during the battle. We won though, in the end. The 'cons crash landed on a little planet at the far end of this galaxy." He squinted his optics, thinking hard, "I think you call it Pluto."

"It's not a planet," she said without thinking, "Not anymore."

"Oh?"

"It was demoted." She smiled to herself; she still found the whole thing ridiculous. "Scientists agreed that it was too small to be considered a 'real' planet so they labeled it a dwarf planet."

Bee looked equally confused and amused. "Oh. Well, you know what I'm talking about, right?" She nodded. "They crashed there, and when we scanned the ship we couldn't find any living energy signatures. Megatron and his elite forces were dead."

"Just from a crash?" Grace asked in surprise.

"More than that," Hound grinned thoughtfully, "I'm pretty sure I saw Megatron get an ax in the face. Not many mechs would survive that kind of injury, even _with_ a medic."

The woman couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by the way they spoke of death, as though it were a casual occurrence. She shrugged it off – war did funny things to ones mind, as her eldest brother could attest. He had come back from Iraq nearly two years ago, where he had exchanged his left leg for a rather severe case of PTSD. Sometimes when the family was gathered for holidays, she could hear him crying in the guest room when he thought everyone else was asleep.

"So did you all go back to Cybertron?"

Hound shook his head. "No, we didn't have the resources for our ship. We searched the galaxy for a planet that could provide us with enough energy to get home, and found Earth. When we landed, it was the year 1983, and we touched down in what you call America. Your government met with us, and we told them the same story I just told you."

"Really?" Grace leaned forward, "And how did they react?"

The two exchanged a look, and Bumblebee began to speak again. "They offered to help, in exchange for information." He paused, browsing the internet for a moment. "You know your computers, and MP3 players and advanced vehicles? All thanks to Wheeljack helping your scientists and inventors develop more advanced technology in a short space of time."

"Well if they were helping, why did they freeze you and leave you here?" Grace asked bluntly.

Bee rolled his eyes. "We mentioned the 'O' word." At her clueless look, he elaborated. "Oil."

Realization dawned, and she gaped at them. "You're _joking._" They shook their heads. "The government turned and froze you in time because you needed _oil_?"

"Wheeljack wanted to see if he could form a type of synthetic oil to use on Cybertron to restore energy, but your Government balked at the idea. Apparently, a lot of large companies back several members of your government, and they convinced some of the leading agents that Optimus was out to take over the planet through oil."

"They thought he was a _terrorist_?"

The two grimaced and nodded. Hound continued, "Yes. The government split us up – there used to be around thirty of us. The agents called certain mechs to different areas in this country, and then attacked. They used liquid nitrogen to force us into stasis, and that's the last that we remember."

"Let me get this straight," Grace stood and pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to keep the encroaching headache at bay. "The United States Government agreed to help you power your ship in exchange for information to help advance their technology. Then, when you mentioned you wanted to research oil, some crazy tycoons bribed them into shutting you down?"

"Yes, although it doesn't sound as dramatic when you say it." Bumblebee agreed.

"Gawd, I need some Aspirin," Grace picked up her bag and looked at the two. "Do you think it would be alright if I went up to my camper? It's just outside the hanger up top," she thumbed at the roof. "I really need something for this headache, not to mention my arm." While they were talking, her wrist had begun to bruise and swell.

"We'll have to ask Prime," Hound stood, and decided to ignore the way Grace flinched and stepped back. "Do you want to come with us and meet the others?"

"We won't let Cliffjumper near you, I swear," Bee held up two of his fingers in a boy scout salute.

"That's the little angry red one?" She guessed, and he nodded. "Well, as long as you all aren't going to step on me..."

"Perish the thought!" Hound carefully climbed the stairs, which by some miracle of '80s engineering held his weight. Bee rolled his eyes followed slowly, listening intently but keeping his eyes ahead. After a moment, he heard the humans tennis shoes hurrying up the stairs behind them. They reached the hall and approached the first door, which was now open and spilling light and warmth into the hall.

Grace trailed behind the two robots, deep in thought. She was hoping they would let her up to her camper; she couldn't get a cell phone signal down here, or send off an email. If they let her go back up, she could shoot Mr. Murphy a message and tell him that she had to speak with him. If worse came to worse, she could also speak to Simmons. They could tell her what had happened here thirty years ago, and maybe even confirm the Autobots story.

Hound stopped at the door and peered in. Prime and his officers were deep in conversation, while Sideswipe, Bluestreak and Cliffjumper stood off to the side, quietly speaking among themselves. Jazz looked up as the three appeared, and grinned.

"Hey there guys. Who's your new friend?"

The others in the room stilled and turned to the door, suddenly quiet. Grace fought down the urge to run and wished she had remembered to grab her gun before leaving the hanger. She looked at the mechs, who were each watching her with intense blue eyes.

"Well?" The visored mech had sat on one of the berths and was swinging his legs back and forth. "C'mon, Hound, be polite and introduce us!"

The green robot stepped into the room, and Grace swallowed her fear as best she could and followed. "Everyone," he began, "this is Grace. Grace, this is everyone."

She blinked, and then looked up at him. "I don't think that really helps..."

The visored mech chuckled. "Give 'em a break, Gracie, Hound's a shy bot. I'm Jazz." He tilted his head in greeting, then looked at the next mech. She suddenly found herself being bombarded with names.

"I am Ratchet."

"M'names Ironhide."

"I'm Bluestreak, and this is Sideswipe and you already met Cliffjumper."

"My designation is Prowl."

The last mech stepped forward. "And I am Optimus Prime."

Grace felt her heart catch in her chest. He was, by far, the largest and most intimidating robot in the room. A squeaky 'hello' escaped her lips, and the robot chuckled.

"We find ourselves in your debt, Miss Grace." He knelt before the startled girl, drawing her attention. "Without you, we may have been trapped in stasis for much of the future."

Grace flushed. "Really, you don't have to thank me, it was an accident." She insisted, holding up her hands. "I was just curious about the lift."

Hound, who had already told Prime what he had learned about the girl, coughed to catch the commander attention. "Optimus, Grace was hoping to return to her home and retrieve some medication before we carry on with our conversations and planning."

Prime considered the girl carefully, ignoring her fidgeting. The others had come closer, surrounding them, and he couldn't help but feel sympathy for the young human. "Are you alright, Grace?"

"Yeah, just a headache," she shrugged and showed him her swollen left hand, "And a sprained wrist. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. I live in a camper just by the hangers." She pointed up at the ceiling again. "It'll only take a minute."

"Prime," the red robot named Ironhide spoke up, "I'm not sure about this. Just 'cause she's a civvie doesn't mean she can't contact _those_ humans."

"She wasn't even alive when it happened, 'Hide," Bumblebee piped up. "We can't just leave her in pain." The human shot him a thankful smile, but the red robot remained unconvinced.

Optimus heaved a sigh (did robots need to breath?) and looked down at her. "Grace, do you swear not to contact anyone else while you get your medication? We want to have some time to adjust to what has happened the past thirty years or so."

Grace nodded, and to her credit she didn't bat an eyelash as she lied to his face. "Of course! I'll just grab some Aspirin and an Ace roll and come back down." He smiled and nodded, and she turned to exit the room.

A large, red foot slammed down in front of her, and Grace fell back with a squeak of fright. Above her, Ironhide glowered and cradled his rifle as he snarled.

"You're lying."

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Thank you so much for all the reviews! They really blew me away! Also, I really enjoy constructive criticism, and apply it to my stories as best I can. So if you have any suggestions or note any mistakes, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed reading, and give me some great reviews to help fuel the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 4: Retaliation

**Murphy's Law**

**Chapter 4: Retaliation**

Grace's heart leapt into her throat, and she scrambled away from the angry red robot. He sneered at her, holding his rifle close like a lover, and looked to his commanding officer.

"We can't trust her, Prime."

The little red robot, Cliffjumper, pushed his way forward. "Let's just kill it and move on. It's a liability we can't risk!"

"No!" Bee grabbed Grace's uninjured wrist and pulled her back, away from the pugnacious bot. "We don't go around and kill innocent people, Jumper!"

"It's not innocent!" Cliffjumper advanced on his yellow counterpart. "It was gonna give us up to those slaggin' soldiers!"

"She wasn't lying!" Bumblebee rounded on Ironhide. "Why would you say that? Just because _you _don't like humans-"

"Do not mistake my caution for prejudice, youngling," Ironhide snarled, shoving his finger in the minibots face. "I am an experienced interrogator!"

Hound rested a finger on Grace's shoulder, causing the girl to nearly jump out of her skin. She looked up and he motioned for her to move back towards the wall (away from the door, she noted wryly). The green mech shuffled so he was standing in front of her and, despite the other mechs now arguing in some language that sounded like an old-school dial-up modem on the fritz, she felt safer.

Optimus Prime finally roared something in that static-filled, buzz-y language, and the human couldn't help but think it sounded as though he'd said "Shut the hell up!" to his troops. He glanced at Grace and Hound and, seeing that she was out of the violent mechs reach, began to lay into his soldiers. After several minutes of shouting, the green mech realized Grace was crouching with her hands clapped tightly over her ears.

"Hey, Optimus," he stepped forward, but the commander rolled on, having built up a good head of steam. "PRIME!" Hound, who_ never _yelled, quickly got their attention, and Optimus faltered mid-sentence. He motioned to the human, who had opened one of her eyes at the sudden, ringing silence. "Maybe we can have this," he coughed, "_discussion _somewhere else? I think the door to the lower levels is unblocked, and we might be able to find Teletran-One."

The large mech blinked his eyes and then looked at Grace. "Ah. My apologies, Miss Grace," he said sincerely, before rounding on the red hellions. "You two, go get the door open." He demanded. They both saluted before hastily leaving the room. Grace stood up and decided that she liked being behind Hound, where the other mechs couldn't stare at her with their bright, penetrating gaze.

The Prime gave a few more orders in the funny electronic language, then turned to look at the human. She couldn't help but think that he seemed tired, or stressed. Probably both. "Miss," he glanced at Hound and Bumblebee, "I'm going to request that you remain here for a few hours, until we are able to sort through some things."

"But-" He held up a hand, silencing her.

"I do apologize, but we cannot risk it. I hope you can understand. Will you two keep an optic on her?" He asked the remaining mechs in the room.

Bee beamed. "Sure thing Prime!" When Hound nodded his assent, Prime returned the gesture and left the room. Behind him, the door shut and locked with a foreboding click.

"So," Bumblebee moved to the back of the room, which was unobstructed by tilting tables, and sat heavily, leaning against the wall. Hound joined him, leaving Grace staring at them from across the room.

"So," Hound held out his hand and motioned for the human to join them. She hesitated for a moment, before stepping forward.

"So," she copied the two mechs, "I'm a prisoner now?" The human stopped well out of arms reach of the two.

"Nah," Bee shook his head, "Prime doesn't like taking prisoners. It's preferable to killing, of course, but it's a lot of paperwork." He winked by dimming one of his eyes (hadn't Prime called them optics?) and smiled, relaxing. "Prime 'n' Prowl – that's the second in command, the real stiff mech, remember? - don't like making a move if they don't have every scrap of information they can get their hands on." He frowned and leaned forward. "Is your head really hurting you?"

She shook her head and immediately wished she hadn't. "No, I'm fine." Sat sat where she stood and looked at the two. "What now?"

Bumblebee's optics flickered, and he sighed. "Well, it's almost midnight," he looked up at the ceiling. "Don't most humans sleep during the night?"

"Yeah, when they haven't just discovered a sentient race of giant aliens living in an abandoned underground bunker." Grace wrapped her arms around her knees and watched them carefully. "I'm not tired. Too much adrenaline."

Bee tilted his head. "What's adrenaline?"

Grace paused, not sure she had ever really thought about it before. "It's stuff in your blood – well, not _your_ blood, but in human blood – that makes you hyper. Like when you're surprised or scared or angry, it kicks in so you have energy to run or fight."

"Fight what?"

"Whatever is threatening you, I guess." She shrugged. "It's called a 'fight or flight' response."

Hound was nodding to himself. "I remember some of the scientists speaking of that," his optics lost their focus as he examined his HUD. "A chemical called Epinephrine..."

Grace was surprised. "How'd you figure that out?"

When the green mech didn't reply (he was much too fascinated by this 'Wikipedia' website and missed her question), Bee rolled his own optics, then tapped them. "Heads-Up Displays," he said in way of explanation, "Like what's in airplanes. Jazz hacked into the Internet and gave us all access."

"Oh," the human closed her eyes for a moment against the pounding in her head and thought that over. At least with access to the internet, they would be able to catch up on the last thirty years rather quickly.

"Are you alright?"

She was quickly growing tired of the robots questioning her health. "Yes, I'm fine, for the moment." Keeping her eyes closed, she asked, "How long do you think it will take the others to finish up downstairs?"

"A few hours, at least," Hound brought himself out of his Wikipedia-induced stupor and looked down at the pale human. "What can we do to help pass the time?"

When Grace didn't offer any ideas, Bee spoke up. "What about that game you used to play with the scientists? Thirty-two questions or something?"

"You mean twenty questions?" Hound considered the idea for a moment. "I'm not sure, are you up for that Grace?"

The girl pondered it for a moment, as the dull pounding moved behind her eyes. "I don't think I can handle that much thinking right now," she admitted with a wry grin.

"Sorry you can't go get your – what did you call it? - Aspirin." Hound said sincerely. "If it gets worse, tell us. We'll do what we can."

Bee suddenly perked up, like a puppy who had spotted a bone. "Hey, do humans still like movies?" He asked.

"Of course," Grace snorted. "You can't turn around now a-days without seeing some kind of advertisement for the next Johnny Depp film." The two mechs had the far-away look in their optics that meant they had accessed the internet again. "It's not like we can watch a movie here," she gestured around the room, "There's no TV."

"Doesn't matter," Bee said absently, waving his hand at his comrade, "Hound can use his holograms."

"Really?"

Hound nodded and stood, moving so he was sitting near her, facing the wall. His generator whirred to life and a blank square of light appeared on the wall. Bumblebee moved to sit next to him, and looked down at Grace. "What would you recommend?" He asked cheerfully.

She though carefully. "Go to Netflix," she suggested, "And see if they have Independence Day..."

* * *

><p>By the time the sun rose, and seven o'clock rolled around, Grace had to admit that she was having fun. After Independence day came I, Robot, during which the two mechs pointed out everything wrong with the robots construction, as well as the three laws. The two Men In Black movies followed, and the girl managed to turn them into Will Smith fans. Hound had found the alien creatures portrayed fascinating, and spent the entire time comparing them to organics he had seen on other planets. They had just started Ghost Busters when the door to the room was knocked off its hinges.<p>

The third red robot – Sideways? Wideswipe? - was standing in the doorway, hands balled into fists, optics narrowed and glowing brightly in the dimmed room. Hound's projected theater screen flickered, cutting Slimer off in the middle wrecking havoc around the hotel. The two mechs looked surprised to see him there, and Grace wondered idly where he and the others had been for the past hours. Hound had mentioned a lower level – was there another floor beneath this one?

"Hey Sideswipe," Bumblebee greeted, sounding hesitant. "Did you guys find Teletran-1?"

The red mech didn't answer. He strode across the room with large, ground-shaking steps, and Grace had the sudden urge to run like the bats of hell were after her.

Hound stood, dwarfing both her and Bee, and moved subtly to stand in front of her. "Is something wrong, Sides?" He asked softly, only to be knocked aside by a fist.

Grace stumbled backwards as Hound fell, hitting the floor so hard it shook, clutching the side of his face. There was a large dent in his cheek, just below his right optic, which now had a large crack running down it. Pinkish-purple liquid was oozing from the wound, dripping to the floor. She realized that the odd substance had to be their blood, and quickly placed Bee between herself and the large robot.

That didn't deter Sideswipe, however. He swept the minibot aside with a lazy backhand, and Grace found herself rapidly running out of things to hide behind. A hand – huge, silver, made of interconnecting joints and wires – was in front of her, approaching rapidly, and she had to admit that The Iron Giant hadn't done the technicalities of a _real _giant alien robot any justice.

The hand clamped around her chest, pinning her arms to her side, and lifted her off the ground. Grace left her stomach on the ground, and had a sudden flashback to the Tower of Terror at Disney Land. The bot brought her up to his face, and she could see the mechanisms in his optics as they shifted and narrowed. She drew back as far as she could, and flinched when his grip tightened.

"Where are the others?" He growled, and she could see that he had a set of metal teeth in his mouth, including sharp canines. Absently, she wondered what they ate, and if their diet included young humans.

After a moment, his grip tightened ever so slightly, and she squeaked. "I don't know!"

"Yes you do," he insisted, deathly serious, "You have to. You knew about us."

"I didn't! I didn't, I swear, I thought it was a deserted basement, that's all, I didn't mean to come down he-"

"Shut up!" Sideswipe's grip tightened, choking the panicking girl mid-sentence. Air was suddenly rushing past the back of her head, ruffling her hair, as he slammed her against the wall. His hand, now splayed, pressed her against the metal, keeping her suspended twenty-odd feet up. "You _do _know, and you're going to tell me where he is, _right now_." He pushed her harder against the wall, and she was sure her heart and lungs were going to pop.

"Sideswipe!" Hound, who had stumbled to his feet, only gave the mech that split second warning before fist met face. The red hellion stumbled back, and Grace found herself torn between relief and panic as she fell the twenty feet to the ground.

Bee was waiting for her, and despite being made of metal he managed to catch her smoothly and deposit her on the ground. She sat there, stunned and trying to catch up with the world, as Hound wrestled Sideswipe to the ground and tried to pin him there.

"NO!" The irate mech was roaring in the scouts face. "IT KNOWS! IT KNOWS!"

"Bee!" Hound dodged a second punch to his helm and motioned for the yellow mech to come help him. "We've gotta get him to Prime! He can control him!"

The yellow minibot stood and looked down at Grace with something akin to pity in his optics. Compassion? Maybe. "Stay here, Grace. We'll be right back." With that promise, he joined into the fray. For such a little mech he made quick work of the front liner, and helped Hound haul the struggling and cursing bot from the room.

For several long moments, Grace didn't move. She stared blankly at the door the three had left from, standing open for the first time since last night. The sound of Cybertronian (that's what Bee had called their language) drifted down the hall, and she couldn't help but quirk a lip at the sound – like an wet and angry cat coupled with a fritzing alarm clock. The red mech was obviously mad, in more ways than one. A door slammed, cutting off the cursing, as the hanger was sealed. The young woman stood, leaning heaving against the wall, and pressed a hand to her chest and stomach.

Nothing felt broken, and while it hurt to breathe, there wasn't any ominous whistling of a punctured lung. She wasn't bleeding, though as she pulled up her shirt and examined her stomach and sides she was certain there would be bruising by tomorrow. Grace took a few more shallow breaths, grounding herself, before stepping away from the wall and crossing the room. The pain in her chest crowded out the very thought of a headache, although her wrist was now pounding in time with her heart and she cradled it against her chest to try and help the pain.

She reached the doorway without incident (though she refused to look at the mangled door Sideswipe had nearly broken in half) and peeked out into the hallway. The other two doors were closed and there, at the end of the hall, in all its wonderful, dusty glory, sat the lift.

With a deep breath, then a squeak of pain and a smaller breath, Grace left the room and hurried down the hall as fast she could, keeping one hand on the wall in an attempt to stay upright. The hall had warmed up significantly, and she was thankful for it. She reached the lift without incident, swung open the gate, stepped in, and latched it behind her. With a sigh of relief, her finger found the button and it jerked to life.

"Grace!"

Bumblebee had returned, sporting two or three dents on his shoulders, and was hurrying down the hall towards the lift as it chugged out of sight. She ignored him, sinking to sit as the lift began climbing the 200 or so feet to the surface. The mech called her name again, but she offered no answer.

Sunlight was streaming into Warehouse 4, and she stumbled out of the lift and sat on the concrete, sucking in the warm, fresh summer air. Her ribs and lungs protested, but she ignored them in favor of getting a hand on her dizziness. Only when the lift gave a clunk and started sliding back down to the basement level did she realize her mistake. Bee was tall, yes – almost twice as tall as herself, and certainly more broad, but he would be able to fit into the lift without much of a problem.

She got to her feet, cradled her wrist to her chest, and hurried out of the warehouse, hoping she would be able to reach her car and be at least twenty miles away before Bee reached the top.

Instead, she ran straight into Simmons.

Fingers dug into her bruising shoulder, and she stared up at the taller man in surprise.

"What," his voice was low and dangerous, "Were you doing in there?"

Grace blinked. His voice was furious, shaking, his eyes were narrowed and cold, holding none of the warmth of Bee and Hound – wait, would he know about them? Would he know how to subdue them and put them back to sleep? Thirty years imprisonment be damned, one of the had just tried to kill her! But first she needed to get him out of the warehouse, preferably before Bee appeared.

"Bats," she blurted out, and he took a step back, lifting his hand from her shoulder.

"Bats?" he repeated.

"Yes, bats. You know, rats with wings?" She motioned to the rafters. "They were living in here, and I figured I could try and board up the hole they come in through during the night while they were gone. See. No more bats. They can't get in." She exited the warehouse and slammed the door behind her. "They carry rabies, you know. Didn't want anybody to get hurt. Would you like some lemonade?" She hurried up the steps to the RV, opened the door and motioned him in.

"You switch from decaff?" The man asked, hesitantly following her into the vehicle.

"No, no," she reassured him, then paused. Coffee did sound like a good idea. But was it safe to use if you suspected you were internally bleeding to death? She leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to catch her breath, and dimly realized she was going into shock. Now that the large terrifying robots weren't there, it was a lot easier. Her fingers twiddled against each other of their own accord. "I just...I saw something last night," she blurted out.

"Really?" Simmons leaned against the wall, an eyebrow raised and a sneer on his lips. His shoulder bumped against the small shelf she had put up. He turned, and his expression turned from condescending to disgusted. "What is _that?_"

Grace followed his gaze and frowned. "It's a toy." She pushed off the counter and crossed the room, absently rubbing her wrist. "See, it's a little tin robot." Her fingers fondly traced the arm of the antique. Her brothers had gotten for her after she graduated high school, a reminder from them to never grow up. They had found it at a garage sale, and some research online placed it at sixty or seventy years old. "It was a gift from my brothers." She scratched a bit of the rust off the red and blue robots shoulder and inspected her nails, then turned her gaze to the robots face. It was pale gray, with bright blue eyes painted over top of a smile. It reminded her a bit of – oh, right. She had to tell Simmons about the robots.

Simmons was still sneering at the robot. "So what did you want to tell me?" He demanded. "What was this thing you saw?" He turned, and his shoulder bumped into the unsteady shelf. The robot tottered for a moment, before falling to the ground. Grace gasped and swooped down, but her fingers could only graze the metal before it hit the tile.

She sighed in relief – the little toy was no worse for wear. It had withstood decades of being played with, and one small fall hadn't broken it. "Can you get that please?" She asked, straightening and feeling the ache in her chest and stomach double.

The man gave her a disbelieving look as she turned to the kitchen. There was a sudden, harsh 'CRUUUUNCH' and he gave a small sigh. "Oh dear, clumsy me," he said quietly. Heart dropping, Grace turned and looked at the robot. It was now crushed beneath Simmons heel. "Whoops." The man stepped off it, revealing the mangled remains of the toy.

The girls heart threatened to break. Yes, it was a small, old, rusty toy, but it had been a gift, and it had gone everywhere with her since she had started college. Not only that, but it was obvious what had happened. "You did that on purpose!"

"Of course not," the man sniffed and ran a hand through his curly, graying hair. "What are you getting so worked up over anyway? It's a toy."

"It was a gift!" She stooped down, ignoring her ribs, and gathered up the pieces. The robots flattened face grimaced at her.

The man looked down at her with something akin to disgust. "It was a toy. A toy robot," he lowered his voice, "And robots need to be destroyed."

"Excuse me?"

He looked up, startled, and then glared. "Robots. They should all be destroyed; melted down for scrap metal. Machines shouldn't be left to think on their own. It's dangerous."

Grace felt the blood drain from her face. The man was around fifty, fifty-five, right? He would have been alive thirty years ago, he could have been an agent, and Hound had mentioned that they had met several government agents before.

"Robots – and stupid little girls who think they're cut out to do a mans job – shouldn't be allowed here." He didn't clarify what he meant by 'here,' and she didn't ask him to.

Drawing herself up (she was still a head smaller than him), she put on her best scowl. "Out. Get out. Now."

"Excuse me?" He had the nerve to look insulted.

"I said get the hell out!" She chucked the robots head at him, and it glanced harmlessly off his forehead. "OUT!"

The man scowled but quickly left the RV. "I will be putting this in your performance report, Miss Grace."

"GO TELL IT TO GUANTANAMO, YOU SEXIST BASTARD!"

The man got into his car (a black luxury car, surely not meant for these rocky roads) and left, the engine purring. Grace watched him pull out of the compound, a hand on her heaving chest as she tried to get enough air into her lungs. The black car dwindled into a speck, then disappeared all together on the other side of the desert.

She sat down on the steps, dropping her head to her knees and clutching her aching chest. How dare that man come and insult her like that! After several more minutes, she lifted her head and looked at Hanger Four. A pair of bright blue eyes peered back from a crack in the door. Heaving a sigh, she motioned Bee to come out.

"I'm the only one here now," she muttered as the door slid back, revealing the yellow minibot.

"Are you alright?" The mech quickly crossed the dirt and crouched in front of her. She was unnerved by his sudden close presence, the red mechs fresh in her mind. Ignoring the panic, she waved away the question with her good hand.

"Yes, well no, but..." She shrugged. "I didn't tell him about you."

"I know." Bee sat back on his heels and reached up to tap one of the horns on his head. "I heard the whole thing."

Grace whistled. "Wow, that's incredible," she looked at the horns, "So some kind of antenna or recorder then?"

"Something like that," the yellow mech wasn't smiling. "You need a medic."

"I need a doctor." Grace stood slowly and kept a hand pressed against her stomach.

"But Ratchet -"

"NO." She flinched at the harshness of her words. "I mean, no thanks, Bumblebee. I'd rather have a human look at me." She turned to go back inside. "I'm gonna grab my purse and my keys, and go to the hospital. Then I'll come back and we can...talk some more." A smile manager to break across her face. "We still have to finish ghost busters, after all."

"But-"

She turned and disappeared inside the RV, firmly closing the door in his face and cutting him off. For a moment, she felt bad – Bee hadn't done anything to her, and had actually tried to protect her when Side-whatsit went on the attack. But he was a giant robot, and she had been attacked by a giant robot, and at the moment that was good enough for her aching head.

There was some sort of flash from outside, and she turned to face the door with a frown. What could that have been? Shoving her phone and keys in her purse, she threw it over her shoulder, yelped in pain, and decided to carry it, before peeking out the door. Her heart leapt, and she got the second-largest shock of the day.

There, sitting beside her apple green VW Bug, was a bright yellow VW Bug, with a red Autobot crest on it's grill and a licensee plate reading simply. 'BMBLBEE.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thank you for the awesome reviews! They keep me going! Sorry about the wait, real life interrupted, then writers block rudely followed, which is weird because I've really been looking forward to writing this chapter. Oh well, it's finished now.

**I hope you all enjoyed, and if you would like to see more please review!**


	6. Chapter 5: Results

**Murphy's Law**

**Chapter 5: Results**

Grace stared in silence for a few more moments before the yellow VW Bug gave a violent shiver and split apart, the body of the car moving to form the body of a robot. Bee stood up, looking slightly different from before. She could see wheel wells on his heels and his chest now had a curved piece of windshield glass. The woman clutched her purse to her chest and shakily sat down on the stairs.

"Neat, huh?" Bee chirped cheerfully, examining the changes to his frame. When he didn't receive an answer, he looked up and met her eyes. "Oh, sorry. Guess I should have warned you," he admitted sheepishly.

She nodded. "Wha-" she swallowed hard, "What did you just do?"

"I transformed," he nodded towards her light green bug, "I hope you don't mind that I scanned your car. It's a good fit for a minibot."

The girl gave an absent nod, still staring between her car and Bumblebee. "How?"

He shrugged. "It's how we're built. All of our race can do it."

Grace dropped her head into her hands and muttered, "Oh my gosh, you're a bunch of Gobots!"

"What's a Gobot?" Bee leaned in to hear her talk.

She lifted her head, looking understandably weary. "Little toy robots that you can change into other forms." Sitting up, she ran a hand over her short hair. "So why did you decide to transform?"

"Oh!" The mech brightened as she stood and brushed off her shorts. "I'm your ride!"

"...What?"

"Optimus wants to make sure you get to the human doctors safely," Bee explained, "So I offered to drive you."

"Drive me? Like, you mean, you transforming and me actually riding _inside_of you." Grace wanted to sink back to the steps, but she had a feeling that if she did, she would never get up.

"Yep!" Bee took a few steps back and collapsed in on himself, forming the bright yellow VW bug once more. The passenger door swung open. "Hop on in! I'll even let you pick the radio station," he paused, "As long as it's not country."

"Shouldn't I be in the drivers seat?" She carefully reached the bottom of the steps, but made no further move.

"Nah, I'll drive."

Quite suddenly, there was a young man leaning against the hood of the car, arms crossed and a large grin on his face. His hair was short and spiky, the color of fresh honey, while his eyes were an unnatural blue that almost seemed to glow. He wore jeans and hi-tops, as well as a yellow shirt and a red jacket. Printed on the front of the shirt was a large, red Autobot symbol.

When Grace simply stared at him, the human looked down and scuffed at the dirt with a toe of his sneakers. "Sorry, should have warned you again." He was still grinning.

"Is this...another hologram?"

"Yep!" Bee was pleased she had caught on so quickly. He walked towards her with a spring in his step, but stopped a few feet away and held out a holographic hand.

She hesitated, but reached out for it, and nearly jumped ten feet in surprise. "You're solid!"

"Not really." Bee held up the hand and wiggled the finger. "The hologram is mostly bent light and data streaming, but if we need to appear solid we can use nanobots." He reached out and poked her shoulder. "Did you feel that?"

Grace nodded, still staring at the hand. "Magic," she finally managed to say.

"Not really," Bee began the explanation again, but she waved him away.

"Until I'm able to think straight, it's magic. End of story."

He nodded in acceptance and stepped back, motioning to the car. "C'mon, hop in!"

She followed his promptings and sat on the very edge of the passenger seat. "Can you...can you feel that?" She asked, reaching out to pat the dash board.

"Yep," the Holo-Bee slid into the drivers seat.

"But isn't that weird?" It was a moment before Grace realized what she'd said, and that _nothing_about this entire situation was normal.

"Nah," Bee slid a seat belt over his chest and shut the door, waiting for her to do the same. "It feels the same as if I was carrying you in robot mode."

"Oh." She scooted the rest of the way in and winced as the door shut and clicked locked beside her. "You _can_drive, right?"

Bumblebee rested his hands on the steering wheel and revved his engine a bit. "As long as the laws haven't changed in thirty years, yeah."

"I think they're pretty much the same," Grace automatically reached up and pulled on her seat belt.

"Great!" The car began to move, smoothly crossing the rocky compound and turning on the dirt and gravel road. As the buildings shrank into dots behind them, Grace found herself wishing, not for the first time, that she had listened to her parents and become a doctor.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Grace was really glad she wasn't a doctor. The drive to town had nearly taken an hour (and most of it had been filled by music from the radio, her chest was too sore to talk for long), and the small hospitals ER had nearly been empty. After a sobbing mother and her much-composed son, who had a broken wrist, had been escorted back, Grace and Bee had been helped. She had been x-ray-ed from head to toe, then placed in a small waiting room wearing nothing but an open-backed hospital gown. She was sitting on an exam table, while Bee lounged in the chair by the door.<p>

"Ratchet could have scanned you quicker than that," the bot pointed out, flipping through an out-dated "People" magazine.

"Ratchet is a giant robot," she shifted uncomfortably on the table.

Bee looked thoughtful. "Actually, he's rather short by our standards."

She didn't have a chance to comment; the doctor chose that moment to sweep into the room. Grace felt her stomach drop into her toes as she met the tall, dark and handsome doctors gaze. He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, and looked down at her chart.

"Well, Miss Dodds," he greeted cheerfully, "It looks like you've had a rather rough day! A fractured wrist and several badly bruised ribs," he shook his head and clucked his tongue, as though he was an ashamed parent, and she didn't find him so very handsome anymore, "What have you been doing?"

"I fell," she said immediately, "down a long flight of metal steps. I don't know why it banged me up so bad."

He 'hmmed' and nodded while making a note on his chart. "Alright, well if I could just take a look at the bruising on your chest," he glanced at Bee, who held the magazine up in front of his face.

"I won't peek, Doc," he said cheerfully, pretending to be absorbed in an article on Sandra Bullock while secretly scanning and recording everything he heard and forwarding it to Ratchet. Grace shot the holo-man a glare, before turning back to the doctor. He carefully removed the gown, draping it over her legs, and she felt herself blush.

The doctor, meanwhile, wasn't interested in admiring her female assets. He stared at the thick, dark bruising in amazement. "How are you even standing?" He demanded, prodding at the blackened skin covering her ribs. It reached all the way around her sides and there was even some on her back.

She shrugged, wincing, "I took some Aleve before we came."

He snorted. "Aleve, huh?" He looked closely at her wrist. "This will need a cast, but there's nothing I can do for the bruising and ribs except for pain killers."

"No bandaging?" She asked curiously, shrugging the gown back on. Bee dropped the magazine back into his lap and watched the exchange curiously.

The doctor jotted down more notes on his clipboard. "No, if I bandage your ribs it will impede your breathing, which can lead to pneumonia." He turned to leave, but glanced back to give her an odd look. "You know, the patterns of those bruises...it's almost like some giant hand grabbed you." He laughed to himself as he left the room, missing the look that passed between the girl and the hologram.

* * *

><p>The ride back to the compound was almost as silent as the ride there. Grace, who had taken half an Oxycontin as soon as they cleared the hospital parking lot, slept most of the way back, her face smooshed against the passenger side window. Bee remained silent, letting her sleep, and argued with Ratchet over his com-link on how effective human doctors were.<p>

By the time they reached the compound, Grace had woken up and was groggily picking at her cast. She had opted for a bright, neon green and Bee had been more than happy to sign it when the doctor produced a pen. The letters he had used were weird and oddly squared, and as they had left he had explained that they were Cybertronian Glyphs. Now she traced the signature, a swarm of butterflies in her stomach as they pulled through the gate and into the compound.

"Bumblebee," she stepped out of the car and watched as he transformed back into his bipedal shape, "That mech that attacked me, the big red one-"

"Sideswipe," he supplied.

"Yeah, him. He won't be able to grab me again, will he?"

Bee smiled and knelt down, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Grace, none of us would _ever_hurt you on purpose. But Sideswipe, well, he's a bit off kilter when his twin isn't around."

"Twin?"

"Yeah. Spark-twin." He ignored her confused look for the moment. "His brother, Sunstreaker. They are two halves of a whole, and when they're far away from each other for a long time both tend to get a little overemotional."

"A _little_?"

Bee chuckled. "Point. You don't have to worry about him, Prime locked him up in one of the empty storage rooms until he gets his temper back under control. He won't be able to get near you." He paused and watched the drowsy girl carefully. "Do you want to rest more before going back down? I can stay out here and keep watch for that agent man."

"That sounds nice," she agreed, thinking of the bottle of Oxycontin in her purse. "Though I did want to speak with you and your friends some more."

"We'll still be here when you wake up." Bee tilted his head as he listened to someone rambling on the other end of his comlink. "Ratchet says you should get some sleep."

"He's the medic one, right?" She was already climbing the stairs.

Bee nodded. "Yes. He knows a lot about human medicine."

"Oh," she opened the door to the trailer, and saw the little metal robots head lying in the middle of the floor. She bent over and picked it up, looking at its scratched paint with a small frown. "I think I'll listen to him, Bee." She turned and gave the robot a sad smile. "See you in the morning."

* * *

><p>Grace didn't see Bee and the others until late in the afternoon of the next day. She woke as the sun began to set over the hills and sand dunes, with the taste of chalk in her mouth. Her mind sluggishly reminded her that she had to see Bee soon, and somehow her body managed to drag itself out of bed. After a quick shower (made difficult by the plastic bag around her left arm to keep the cast dry), she skipped dinner in favor of taking half a pain pill and stuffed a backpack with granola bars and flashlight batteries.<p>

A yellow bug was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. He happily transformed when she appeared, though it turned to concern when he saw her flinch. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she grunted through barred teeth, "You surprised me is all." Her ribs screamed in protest from her gasping. "Is the red one still locked up?"

Bee nodded. "Yeah. Do you want to go down?"

She nodded in return, and followed him into Warehouse 4. The lift was waiting obligingly against the wall, and the Autobot motioned for her to go down first. "There's not enough room for both of us. Ratchet is waiting for you at the bottom."

"The medic?" He nodded, and Grace paled. "But why? I'm fine!"

Bumblebee shrugged. "He doesn't trust human doctors, and he wants to make sure you're okay." He slid back the gate. "Please just humor him," the mech begged, "If you don't he'll throw a fit and be in a bad mood all day, and trust me, you _don't_want that."

Grace paused as she remembered the last mech who 'threw a fit,' and unconsciously ran a hand over her ribs. She was sure that if the mech _really_wanted to look at her, he would find a way out of the lower levels. Bee had managed to follow her, after all. She patted her hip, wishing she had her .9mm.

The yellow minibot touched her shoulder with a finger. "Are you alright?"

"No," Grace snorted, "I'm completely insane." She stepped into the lift and closed the gate. "Will you," she swallowed, finger hovering over the button, "Will you come with me? To where ever the doctor takes me, I mean."

Bumblebee looked surprised. "Of course! Nobody should have to suffer through the Hatchet's wrath alone," he grinned.

"You're not making me feel better," she admitted with a small grin of her own, punching the button. The yellow minibot's laughter followed her down the shaft.

The mech at the bottom of the lift was not laughing. He glared down at her from beneath a red chevron, arms crossed over his broad chest. Grace's smile fled as she carefully stepped out of the lift, hitting the button to send it back up. Neither human nor alien said anything, choosing instead to simply size each other up.

"I presume Bumblebee has explained why I wish to see you?" The mech finally asked, his voice deep and old, reminding Grace of her grandfather Frank, who had been a pilot during World War II. The voice carried a lot of memories, few of them pleasant.

"Sort of," Grace admitted, and he threw his gaze upward with a long-suffering sigh.

"Primus save me from small-brained minibots," He groused as the lift clanked to a halt behind them. Bee emerged, a large grin on his face as he looked up at his favorite medic.

"Our brains aren't small," he corrected cheerfully, "They're just travel sized!"

Ratchet leveled him with an icy glare (which didn't seem to have any effect) and looked back down at the human. "Are you ready, Miss Dodds?"

Having Bee at her back made the girl feel much more confident. "Yeah, I-Wait. How do you know my last name? I didn't mention it, did I?"

"You didn't need to," Ratchet sniffed, "Jazz found it on the Internet. Now, you said you were ready? "

"Yeah," she shrugged.

Without another word, the mech swept down and picked her up. Grace screeched loud enough to wake the dead, not even realizing that instead of grabbing her like a rag doll, Ratchet had cradled her like a hamster, using both his hands. He quickly brought her to his chest, and watched in annoyance as she grabbed onto one of the rods of his chest armor. Her eyes were shut tight, breath coming in uneven little gasps, and he could swear she was muttering 'not again' under her breath.

"What the slag, Ratchet?" Bumblebee was furious, though his angry glare didn't intimidate the medic in the least. "You can't just grab humans without warning! That's what Sideswipe did, and look what happened!"

"Calm down, youngling, she's fine," Ratchet huffed in annoyance. He gave the girl in his hands an odd look, before turning and sweeping down the hall.

Bumblebee threw his hands up in annoyance and followed, muttering about 'pushy, temperamental medics' under his breath. They marched into the large room with the scattered remains of the spaceship, and walked down the catwalk to the side opposite the stairs. The chunk of grate they stopped on clicked out of place, and groaned as the tired gears brought them down to floor level. The noise brought Grace out of her panic, and she looked at the wall beneath the catwalk in surprise.

"That wasn't there before!" She turned, back resting against Ratchet's chest (and one hand still firmly wrapped around the bar) and looked at the large door.

"It was hidden," Bumblebee chuckled and approached the door. It was made of bright orange metal, with a large Autobot symbol carved on the front. He reached out and touched the face, then stepped back as the door shuddered, then slid into the wall. A wave of musty, cool air washed over the trio.

"Welcome to the Autobot Base, Grace!"

Within twenty minutes, Grace was completely lost. The ARK (as Bee called the base) was several acres large, all of it underground, and all of it made of the same odd, orange metal. They passed storage rooms, weapons lockers, personal quarters and dormitories, a scorched research lab, a dusty medical bay, and a large canteen/recreation room adorned with a huge TV and an impressive collection of VHS tapes. By the time they reached the Command Center, the girl was sure she would never find her way out if left to her own devices.

The Command Center was the largest room in the base. It descended a story below the rest of the base, fortifying its position, and could be locked off from the rest of the building. The entrance emerged onto a wide catwalk where several Autobots could stand to watch the proceedings below, or take the lift at the end to the main deck. The walls were covered with a bank of computer monitors, which coated nearly every inch of the circular room. In the center of the room was a large, rounded table, which was crowded with chairs and covered with what looked like oversized iPads. The mechs from before – minus Sideswipe – were sitting there, reading or discussing quietly with their neighbors.

Hound was the first to look up when the door opened, and a large grin crossed his face. The others followed his gaze, and watched as Ratchet and Bee took the lift down. Without preamble, Ratchet set Grace down on the table, snapped 'don't move' and took the lift back up. Bee climbed into the seat between Hound and Bluestreak, giving her a reassuring smile.

"What's with Ratchet?" He asked the table in general.

Jazz began to snicker. "Don't mind him, Bee. While we slept, his medbay was invaded."

"Invaded? It wasn't the 'cons, was it?"

"Oh no, much worse," the visored mech leaned forward and whispered, "Gophers!"

The mechs around the table chuckled, and Hound leaned forward. "I'm glad you came back, Grace."

The girl sat, crossing her legs and very much aware of the fourteen optics on her. "Well, we have to finish watching Ghost Busters," she reminded him, keeping her eyes on the green mech. Hound and Bee were the only ones she had deemed as 'safe' so far.

"Hi Grace," the gray mech, Bluestreak, copied Hound and leaned forward. "How are you feeling? W were all really worried when Bee took you to the hospital. Sideswipe usually doesn't flip out like that. I don't think I've ever see-"

"Take a breath, Blue." Jazz admonished gently. "I'm sure Grace is doin' just fine." He tilted his head to the girl, visor glinting in a wink, "Right, lil' lady?"

Grace had to turn to answer, and she found herself facing all seven mechs at once. "Er, yeah. I'm okay."

"We are very relieved to hear that, Miss Dodds." The largest mech, Optimus Prime, had spoken, drawing every-ones attention. "We are also grateful for your discretion."

"Discretion my aft," Ironhide snarled, glaring at the human. "You know as well as I do that she was going to tell her government buddies all about us!"

Optimus held up a hand to soothe the irate mech. "Yes, Ironhide, but she chose _not_to, and that makes all the difference."

"Yes, yes, we're glad you kept your mouth shut." Ratchet had returned in all his grumpy glory. "Now then, turn around so I can get a proper scan." Grace scrambled to her feet and spun to look up at him. He had an odd tool in his hand, which looked like a futuristic price scanner. "Now stand still."

The price scanner shot out a line of blue-green light, which he moved up and down her body. She winced as it hit her eyes, nearly blinding her. Ratchet muttered to himself as he read the results.

"You," he finally declared, "are one lucky organic."

"Really?" She couldn't help the sarcastic snap.

"Really," he affirmed, missing her tone, as he tucked the scanner into some secret pocket at his hip. "Taking into account the amount of pressure Sideswipe can exert with his hands alone, not to mention the hydraulics in his arms, your ribs should have snapped, which would have left them with a sharpened edge, which in turn should have pierced your lungs and pericardium membrane to piece your heart. The massive internal bleeding caused by these injures would have killed you within minutes."

Grace paled, and Hound reached out to steady her as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. She leaned against his hand, grasping his thumb as she tried to stay upright. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought her first instinct, which was to throw up and faint.

"Primus, Ratchet, don't you have any tact?" Jazz demanded angrily. For a second, the visored mech had thought the human was going to faint dead away, or suffer an organic spark-failure.

"You didn't need to tell her that," Bee growled.

"That was kind of mean, Ratchet," Bluestreak quietly agreed.

The human took a deep breath, centering herself, and stepped away from Hound's support. "No, it's okay. _I'm_okay." She squared her shoulders and met the gazes of the mechs. "And he didn't kill me, so it's not worth thinking about."

Optimus considered her closely for a moment, before slowly nodding and standing. "Officers," his gaze raked over Prowl, Ironhide, Jazz and Ratchet, "Let's adjourn to my office to continue this discussion." The four mechs stood and move to one of the doors lining the room, but halfway there the second in command stopped and fixed Grace with his optics.

"Miss Dodds," his voice was devoid of any emotion, "for what reason did you return?"

Grace, who had been trying to convince Bluestreak that she was alright, stilled and turned to meet the impassive mechs stare. It was rather unnerving, as though he was peering into her mind, and she didn't dare lie to him.

"Curiosity."

"Really?" Prowl's voice held a tinge of disbelief.

"Yes, but, well," Grace felt frustrated at being cornered by the mechs question, "It's not fair, what they did to you! Locking you away like a refrigerator in a storage shed, it's just awful." She growled, "I mean, who does that?"

"Your government," Bluestreak pointed out helpfully.

The humans expression turned murderous. "Not anymore, they don't! I want to help."

"Help with what?" Prowl asked.

"Find the others, of course!" She turned to look at Bee. "You said there were others, and they were sent out on fake missions and capture like you, right? I want to help find them."

Ironhide scoffed. "You're just a human. Why would we need your help?"

"I saved you, didn't I?" The girl snarled. "Without me, you'd still be a block of cold metal, rusting away in that room upstairs. Besides, the government makes bases like a cookie cutter makes, well, cookies. They're all the same. Your friends are probably hidden in a base similar to this, and that means there's probably a human guard there too. You're going to need my help to get in."

At Ironhide's disbelieving snort, Grace's eyes narrowed and hardened. "A guard will be much more receptive to a lost little girl than a giant alien robot who's armed to the teeth."

Jazz snickered, thoroughly enjoying watching the older mech getting shown up. "She's got a point, Hide. I vote we take her with us."

"We will discuss that later," Prime assured his third. He led the others through a large door beside the lift.

Prowl remained behind for a moment, however, watching her carefully. Finally, he nodded, doorwings flicking. "That is an acceptable answer." He followed the others, leaving Grace wondering what she had just volunteered for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN **OMG FINALLY! Sorry guys! I've had HUGE writers block with this chapter for some reason. Hope ya'll liked it!

**PLEASE REVIEW! 3 THEY MAKE ME WRITE FASTER! **


	7. Chapter 6: Primus Grant Me Patience

**Murphy's Law **

**Chapter 6: Primus Grant Me Patience**

Three and a half hour later, Optimus Prime and the others returned to the command center, only to be jolted into battle mode by a loud explosion. Immediately, the six bots took up a defense position, weapons drawn and charging. Jazz was the first to realize they were not under attack, and he stood up slowly and surveyed his comrades.

Hound and Bumblebee were still sitting at the table, leaning forward eagerly as they watched the movie playing out on the large computer screens. Cliffjumper was practically jumping in his seat as another building was blown up, envy and longing in his eyes. Bluestreak was sitting more calmly in his seat, arms folded on the table. Grace, meanwhile, was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, can you guys turn that down?"

Bee jumped and spun in his seat, giving the officers a guilty look as Hound moved to shut the movie off. "Sorry, sir. We didn't hear you come in."

"It's no wonder with the volume turned up like that." Ratchet rolled his eyes, "Are you trying to damage your audio receptors?"

Jazz chuckled, "That wasn't really loud, Ratchet. Just enough to make your audios ring." He flicked the medics audio and quickly ducked away. "What we're you guys watching, anyway?"

"Go-Bots Three: Shadowed Surface of Pluto," Bumblebee recited gravely, though his optics were gleaming. "It's _incredible_, even if the effects are really bad." He turned to the large, red mech beside Jazz. "You would love it, Hide! All they do is blow slag up!"

The bots scattered around the room chuckled, ignoring the weapon officers glares. "Hey, wait," Jazz peered at the soldiers, "Where's Grace?"

"Here!" A voice, softer than the bots even as she yelled, come from Hound's shoulder. The mech finished shutting down the computer and turned to face the others. Grace was sitting on his shoulder, between his helm and hologram projector. She held onto both as he moved, keeping her balance, and grinned at the surprised mechs. "Cliffjumper got a bit excited about the movie," she explained, "So we decided it would be safer for me up here."

"Guess what, Gracie!" Jazz said by way of greeting, then steamrolled over her protests at the nickname, "You were right!"

The woman stared at him. "Right about what?"

"The bases! We found them!" The excited mech was bouncing on his heels, "You were right about them all being identical."

The four who hadn't been privy to the officers meeting sat up straighter, hope gleaming in their optics. "How many more are there?" Bluestreak asked anxiously. "Are they guarded? Are they far away? When are we leaving? Are all of us going to go? Wha-"

Cliffjumper nudged him hard in the side, and the young mech quickly shut his mouth.

"There are three more that we could find," Jazz said, fiddling with the control panel on the table and bringing up a holographic screen. It flashed as he hooked up to it, and after a moment a map of the United States appeared. "The closest one is here," he motioned for Hound to step closer, bringing Grace with him. The map zoomed in on Oregon, just south of Portland. "Here," Jazz pointed at the screen, just beside a mountain. "That's Mt. Saint Hillary," the screen once again zoomed in and focused, "and this right here is the base!"

Grace had to admit, the Government had no creativity (unless it came to loopholes). The base had four large, rectangular hangers, and what looked like a cabin for a guard station. A fence surrounded the entire compound. "It's pretty much identical," she agreed, running a hand through the hologram curiously. "But how do you know your friends are there?"

"Easy," a new picture flickered to life on the screen; it showed a message with the American President's seal on it. "We found the messages they sent us right before the attack. The coordinates match areas right near the bases. They _have _to be there."

The woman was surprised; from what she had seen from Jazz so far, he was a happy, upbeat, 'glass is half full' kind of guy. To hear that note of longing in his voice was positively _human_.

"We'll find your friends," she reassured him with a smile.

"Grace," Optimus Prime was speaking again, his voice deep and serious and quieting everyone in the room, "Are you certain you wish to assist us?"

"Well, yeah!" She was startled by the question. "Sitting around guarding an _'empty_', abandoned airfield for the next two months sounds great and all, but I'd much rather go with you guys."

The ancient mech held up his hand, silencing her. "That is not what I mean, Grace. I cannot allow you to accompany us only for the 'thrill of it'. If your government was to find out you are assisting us, you would be labeled a traitor, and possibly a terrorist. You could be stripped of your citizenship, sent to prison, possibly killed. I am not willing to risk your life like that."

"Well no offense," Grace carefully stood, keeping a hand on Hounds projector, "But that's not really your decision, Commander. If I want to risk my life, I will. I already _have_," she motioned around the room. "Besides, what _my_ government did to you wasn't right, and I don't really care what they call me." She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I'm going to help."

"We should let her come, Prime." Bumblebee piped up, "We're going to need a humans help for this, and we can trust Grace."

Hound would have nodded in assent, but didn't want to dislodge the girl. "Grace already knows about us, Optimus, and if she wants to help, why should we stop her?"

"She had a point earlier, Prime." Ironhide added, to the rooms surprise. "She would be helpful on the mission."

Cliffjumper grunted in assent. "She'll make a good distraction if something goes wrong."

Grace opened her mouth to retort, but Bumblebee beat her to it. "I don't think we'll be able to stop her, Prime." He smiled at his commander, "And don't we fight for the right of all sentient beings? So they can have the freedom to make their own choices?"

Prime sighed, running a hand over his helm. "Put like that, I suppose I don't have a choice." He sat at the table, and motioned for the others to join him. "We need a plan, then," he focused on Grace. "How often does that agent come to check on you?"

"Every Monday morning," the girl allowed Hound to carefully set her on the table, "and it's always Simmons."

"So we can leave rig-"

"WAIT!" Ironhide lunged to his feet and slammed his fist down on the table, making it shake and throwing Grace off balance. "Did you say _Simmons?_"

The girl, who was now sitting and rubbing her backside, muttered something under her breath before answering. "Yes, I said Simmons."

Metal hit metal as the mech smashed his fists together. "That little glitch," he muttered angrily, "I thought he was dead."

"Dead? No," Grace shook her head, "Though I'm not sure anybody would miss him if he was."

Ironhide cracked his joints, and a positively evil grin crossed his face. "Really?"

"No," Optimus held out his hand, "You will not be hurting anybody, Ironhide. Grace," he glanced at the confused human, "Is there any way you can insure that he will not return? If another agent, who does not know about us, were to come, it would be safer for all of us."

"You're asking me to get rid of Simmons?"

"Yes."

The smile that crossed her face was no less terrifying than Ironhides'. "Piece of cake."

* * *

><p>"You sexist bastard! Get the hell out!"<p>

"What are yo-"

"OUT!"

Bumblebee rocked on his wheels with barely-contained laughter as something inside the RV smashed against the wall. The door was hastily thrown open and a rather flustered Simmons appeared, nearly falling down the steps in his haste to escape. A china bowl shattered against the door frame, heralding the appearance of Grace.

"Don't you ever show your face around me again!" She howled. "Send one of your lackeys to get the reports!"

"I'll have you in jail for this!" Simmons howled as he fumbled with the keys to his car. "Attacking an officer, assault, attempted murder," he muttered to himself, "I'll have you in Guantanamo before the night is out!"

"Go to hell!" She watched in satisfaction as he yanked open the door and threw himself in the luxury car. He peeled out, kicking up a cloud of dust as he fled. Bumblebee waited until the man had sped off his radars before transforming and standing next to the girl.

"I think you may have overdone it," he commented.

"Nah," Grace put her hands on her hips and grinned up at him, "Besides, he can't do anything to me. I already e-mailed _his _boss, Murphy, and complained about his conduct. Murphy said he'd start sending a different agent to pick up my reports."

Bumblebee followed her towards the hanger. "So why the theatrics?"

"Why not?" She grinned and held the door open for him. The lift was waiting for them against the wall. The human paused, staring at it. "Wait, Bee," she frowned, "how are the others going to get out? The lift isn't big enough to carry them. I mean, Jazz got out, but I don't know how..."

The bot burst into laughter. "Grace, you would make a _terrible _tactician," he continued to the lift. "There's another lift, a larger one, downstairs. We already checked, and it works."

"Oh," Grace frowned. "There's no need to laugh, you know."

"I'm sorry," he was still grinning, "It's just, you remind me of Ironhide. He tends to rush in without thinking, too." When her frown didn't abate, he apologized again. "Sorry."

"Right, well, I'm gonna go pack," Grace kicked a flip flop against the door frame. "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit."

Bee nodded, and disappeared down the lift, leaving a rather peeved human behind.

* * *

><p>An hour later, when Grace descended into the base with a canvas duffel bag thrown over her shoulder, she didn't find any robots. Instead, ten vehicles were sitting in the large room at the end of the hall, which had been cleaned up. The rusty pieces of ship hull were stacked neatly against the wall, leaving just enough room for the cars, truck and semi. The human dropped her bag and leaned against the catwalk railing, grinning at them.<p>

Bumblebee, in his VW Bug form, was sitting beside who she assumed was Cliffjumper. He had taken the form of a small, 2-door compact car. On his other side was Hound, who was a Jeep Wrangler, and Bluestreak, a Nissan sports car. In the center of the room was a large Peterbuilt truck, complete with a trailer. A sleek police cruiser was parked beside him, as well was a large, square ambulance. A large, bright red truck was rocking slowly back and forth on his wheels while he spoke with a black and white Pontiac Solstice, who seemed to almost be bouncing. Beside them, sulking, was a crimson Lamborghini.

Grace paused and counted the vehicles mentally on her fingers. "Bee, Jumper, Hound, Streak, Prime, Prowl, Ratchet, Ironhide and Jazz..." She stared a the Lamborghini and felt the blood drain from her face, "Sideswipe..."

The girl hadn't spared a thought for the mech that had attacked her in the last few days. She had been too busy spending time with Bumblebee, Bluestreak and Hound, plotting their route to Oregon and educating them on why pictures of cats wanting cheeseburgers were hilarious. The other mechs, who weren't interested in making friends, non-the-less stopped to chat and she learned a bit more about each of them. By Monday morning, she had decided that all nine mechs were 'safe,' even Cliffjumper. She had completely forgotten about the tenth, though.

Luckily, Hound spotted her before she had a chance to panic. He transformed and moved to stand beside the catwalk, which hung at his chest level. "Hello, Grace," he greeted politely.

"Er, hey Hound," she dragged her eyes away from the Lamborghini and smiled at him. "Did you manage to convince Prowl to stop by the zoo in Portland?"

Bumblebee swung himself up onto the catwalk and sat beside Grace, surprising her with his dexterity. "No, he pitched a fit at the idea. We'll find time to go after the Mission."

She could hear the capital 'M' in his voice. "Okay," she agreed, "maybe we can go to the D.C. Zoo. They have elephants."

"What are elephants?" Bluestreak elbowed his way in beside Hound, a brilliant smile on his face. Over the weekend, he and Grace had formed a fast friendship. Both had the amazing ability to prattle on for hours about nothing in particular, and the other mechs were happy to leave them chatting away.

As Grace launched into an explanation about the large mammals, Optimus Prime transformed and stood, watching the group cautiously. He had not been able to spend much time around the human, and Jazz suggested that his presence and position of power made the girl nervous. The saboteur was never wrong when it came to reading people, be they organic or robotic, and he had made a promise to himself that he would make friends, or at least allies, with the girl. After all, if she was going with them as part of the team, she would have to be able to trust and rely on all of them, Sideswipe and himself included.

Prime had to admit, as he appraised the girl, that Jazz had done a good job. Right after getting his alt mode, which was the flashiest he could find (Honestly, sometimes Prime wondered how the black and white mech had become the best spy on Cybertron), the third in command had dragged Grace to a sports shop in the city three hours away and the two had spent several hundred dollars getting ready for their excursion up north. Now, as she leaned against the catwalk railing listening to Bluestreak chat, she almost looked like a soldier. Steel tipped boots were partially covered by a pair of khakis that were more pockets than pants. Her .9 mil hung from her belt, as well as several hunting knives Jazz had picked out, alongside a flashlight and a can of mace. She wore a camouflage tank top, and hanging around her neck was what Bumblebee had informed them was the small, flattened head of the robot toy Simmons had destroyed. Jazz had assured Optimus that they had also picked out a thick, brown leather jacket that would protect her from any bad cuts or 'road rash' if she happened to get tossed or fall during a fight. Personally, Prime hoped that the human wouldn't even get to _see _a fight.

Bluestreak quieted as the commander approached, stepping to the side respectfully. Grace straightened up and ran her hands down her shirt, straightening it. Optimus recognized the action for what it was; a way of dispensing nervous energy. Bumblebee and Hound had confided in him that she didn't feel quite safe around them yet. They were the only exception; after all, they had saved her life. Cliffjumper and Bluestreak had also wormed their way into her trust, but she was still wary when they were around. The other officers made her nervous and Prime, well, he just outright scared her.

"Miss Grace," the mech greeted, "Are you certain you wish to accompany us?"

The human barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Prime and Prowl had been asking her that every time they stopped to converse. "Yes sir, I am sure."

He nodded. "We are glad to have you with us. Are you prepared to leave?"

"Yes sir," she repeated.  
>Prime straightened and took a step back. "Alright then, Autobots, transform and roll out!"<p>

Bee followed Grace as she hurried to the other end of the catwalk and jumped down the steps, two at a time. Once they reached the bottom, the minibot transformed and opened his door for the girl. His hologram buzzed to life and gave the girl a smile as she slid into the passenger seat, squeezing her duffel bag into the back seat. As soon as they were both settled in line between Cliffjumper and Hound, the ceiling above split open. Dirt and rust flakes fell and coated the bots, who shook on their wheels to get rid of the debris. The steel floor lurched with a heavy groan, then began to climb upwards past the catwalk. In a moment, the floor settled into place in hanger one. Cliffjumper quickly transformed and, after peering through the dusty window, pushed open the large garage-type door.

Sunlight flooded the hanger, and the mechs seemed to perk up as the warmth washed across their finish. The Autobots quickly rolled out of the hanger, stopping to sink their wheels into the soft dirt and sand and listen to the wind whistle across the plain that surrounded them. Ironhide transformed and moved towards the trailer. Grace's heart leapt into her throat as he leaned over to examine her car. With a sneer, he grabbed the bumper and dragged it over to the hanger, as though it weight no more than a sack of flour. He shoved it onto the steel lift they had ridden up, then sent it back down. The concrete floor slid back into place, and Cliffjumper closed the garage.

"Alright, Autobots," Grace jumped as Optimus Primes voice crackled through Bumblebee's radio, "We're rolling out. Stay in position, don't fall behind to get to far ahead. Grace," the woman sat up straighter and stared at the radio, "If you need to stop, let Bumblebee know. He and Hound will be your guards until we reach Oregon. Understand?"

"Um," she looked through the passenger window at the large truck, then back to the radio, "Yes, sir."

"Good," the semi revved his engine. "Autobots, roll out!"

* * *

><p><strong>IMPORTANT: <strong>Hey guys, sorry for the lag in updating. Very important note here: I don't know when I'll be updating again. My brother was killed in a car accident a month ago, and the only reason I even bothered to post this chapter was because I was almost at a good stopping point. It was originally going to be twice as long. Anyway, I'll do my best to keep going with this story, but I don't know how long the waits between updates will be. Thanks for being patient!

3 Ashana/Sally


	8. Chapter 7: CA89 to I5 N

**Murphy's Law**

**Chapter 7: CA-89 to I-5 N**

According to Mapquest, the drive from Central Nevada to Portland, Oregon, was around fourteen hours. The caravan of Autobots managed to make it in seven and a half. Grace rode the entire wire with Bumblebee, asking him to stop only twice. Once for lunch at a Wendy's in Fresno, and again at a little no-name gas station near the border between California and Oregon for cold soda and a bathroom.

It was a little past five o'clock when they reached Portland. The roads were jammed with traffic as office workers trudged home after a Monday of hard work. Optimus Prime led them off the interstate and through several neighborhoods, where wide-eyed children watched the caravan with awe. The houses faded away into sloping hills as they turned south, trees springing up between the hillocks to shade the road.

After nearly half an hour on the little back road, Jazz blared his horn and darted in front of Prime. He slowed down and turned onto a dirt and gravel road that led into the forest, towards a large mountain. The others followed, and as they turned Grace caught sight of a road sign farther down the road:

**OREGON CITY : 12 MILES**

**WASCO RIVER CAMP GROUNDS : TURN LEFT 1 MILE**

"The compound is a few miles past the camp," Bee explained as they followed the others. Grace nodded, watching in amazement as the low-slung sports cars ahead of them drove easily over the washed out roads. Even the BW wasn't bouncing. They silently passed a road that branched off to the left, leading towards a small cabin and several wide, cleared spots, a few of which held tents and camp fires. No one noticed the eerily-quiet caravan as it crawled by.

Jazz's voice slid smoothly out of the radio. To her credit, Grace didn't jump; the mechs had used Bee's radio to communicate during the trip, instead of their internal radios, to keep the human in the loop. "There's a clearing up ahead, off the road a little ways. Should be able to hide us pretty well 'til we can get our friends back."

The caravan came to a stop along an uneven stretch of road, with thick trees on either side. Bumblebee's hologram shimmered out of sight, and Grace took the hint and slid out of the car, bag slung over her shoulder. The ten robots transformed, and glanced around the road before following Jazz into the forest. The human hurried after them, glad that being small made it easy to slip through the trees.

A quarter-mile into the woods was a circular clearing, and the leaf-ridden mechs quickly filled it and stretched out their joints, tired from the long drive. Grace found a log that hadn't rotted completely away and used it as a perch as she watched the mechs move about. The officers immediately formed a tight circle and began whispering in low voices, while the soldiers inspected the trees and sky with interest. Hound plucked a branch off one of the towering oaks and sat beside her, examining the leaves closely.

"Are you nervous?"

"No, should I be?" She reached out and plucked one of the leaves from his branch. "I mean, it'll be just like before, right? Sneak in, turn up the heat, sneak out. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezey."

"Aren't you worried about the guard?" Hound asked curiously.

Grace waved her hand at him. "Nah, Jazz looked up his work file. Some guy named Sam Witwicky. Twenty-five, going to college for an engineering degree or something. I doubt a geek like that can shoot straight."

"Careful what you say," Bumblebee warned as he joined them, "Wheeljack is what you would consider a 'geek,' as well as a wicked good shot. When he's got his head on straight, at least."

"Who's Wheeljack?"

"Our resident mad scientist. Hopefully we'll find him soon. Jazz's visor needs an update, and Jumper's complaining that his gun isn't big enough again."

"And by gun you mean...?"

Bee gave her a confused look. "His gun. You know, the thing he pointed at you a week ago."

Snickering, Grace kept her thought to herself and leaned back. "I'm not worried at all. The plan is sound, and if we get caught, I can say that I got lost while hiking and ask for directions."

"Speaking of the plan," Jazz sidled up, making Grace jump, "the sun is starting to set. You two should get going." He crouched and smiled at her, "You got all our numbers in your cellular phone, right?"

Grace held up her new phone and wiggled it. "Yep, all of 'em."

"If you need any help, just call. Text. Whatever. We'll come runnin'." Jazz tilted his visor in a wink. "The place is right down the road. Good luck!"

* * *

><p>The Oregon compound was scarily similar to the Nevada base. There were four large hangers made of pressed metals, which were surrounded by a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. There was a large yard as well, but instead of being dust and sand, it was covered with a thick carpet of pine needles and leaves. Trees crowded in on the fence, except for where the dirt road wound through the forest and up to the gate. Instead of an RV, a trailer home stood in one of the corners, cemented to its spot with a concrete patio complete with a three-legged barbeque and a picnic table. The windows were dark.<p>

"Damn," Grace slid out of Bee's drivers seat and stared through the fence, "He has a nicer trailer than I do!" She looked over the yard, and at the four hangers. "Coast is clear, Bee. Nobody's here." She pulled at the gate, and was a bit surprised when it slid open a few feet. "Hah, not even locked. This will be a piece of cake."

"Be careful, Grace," Bee cautioned as she slipped through the gate. She had barely made it two feet in before their dreams of a simple in-and-out job were shattered.

A huge, drooling beast with foot-long fangs and gigantic paws galloped across the yard, roaring loudly. Grace couldn't help it – she screamed and backpedaled, tripping over herself to go heels-over-head against the fence. With a speed she couldn't imagine, Bumblebee transformed and shoved the gate completely open, moving to stand in front of her.

And promptly burst into laughter.

The year-old yellow lab barked again, tail wagging as he jumped eagerly on his long legs. The Autobot crouched down and held out a hand, which the puppy eagerly sniffed. Grace scrambled to her feet and stayed behind the robot.

"You're _scared _of _dogs_?" Bee was still snickering.

"Shut up," the human muttered, still eying the dog warily.

The Autobot scratched the dogs head with a finger. He immediately rolled over on his back and wiggled happily in the dirt. "What a cute little thing. You're a good boy, aren't you?" The dog jumped to his feet and began barking again. "Yes you are, you're a good boy."

"Shut him up, Bee. He'll wake the guard!"

A light came on in the trailer. The two froze, and Bee did an impressive about-face and leapt back, transforming as he did so. The dog, startled by the sudden movement, began to growl and bark at Grace, who was the only intruder left to direct his ire at. The door to the trailer slammed open, and a man jumped down the steps with a rifle pointed at the gate.

"Who's out there?" He roared, hitting something on a post set in his patio. Lights flared to life all around the fence, bathing the yard in yellow florescent beams. Grace backed against the fence, hands thrown in front of her face to soften the light. She felt the gun in her back pocket nudge against her back, reassuring her that if things did get out of hand, she had a way out.

"Dammit, Spike, I was almost asleep!" The man un-cocked the rifle and swung it up to rest on his shoulder. The dog continued to bark, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole back end. "Shut up!" The dog immediately snapped his muzzle shut and sat, tail still going like mad.

While the man had yelled at the dog, Grace had scrambled to sit on Bee's roof, well out of reach of the curious and friendly puppy.

"You can get down now, miss. He doesn't bite." The man stopped by the front bumper and gave the car a cursory glance.

"If it's all the same, I'll stay up here," Grace muttered, a blush coloring her cheeks.

The man smirked. "Suit yourself," he shrugged, "What are you doing up here?"

"I got lost," Grace lied smoothly, brushing her hair away form her eyes and she tried to remember the story she and Jazz had cooked up. "I was supposed to meet a friend and hike up Mt Saint Hillary to a camp spot, but I think I took a wrong turn."

"A _lot _of wrong turns," the man sighed. "Here, get down. I'll put Spike inside and print you a map." He grabbed the dogs collar and dragged the Labrador into the trailer.

"You okay Grace?" Bee asked as the girl jumped off his hood and landed awkwardly on her new boots."

"Yeah, just, I don't like dogs," she muttered, brushing herself off. "I'm gonna slip in while he's distracted. Can you wait in the woods? If he doesn't see a car, he'll think I left."

The car transformed and nodded. "Good idea," he sunk back into the trees, fading from sight.

Grace's phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at the screen to see a new text message: **CALL IF U NEED ME. -BEE.**

Grinning, and glad she had taught the bots to text, the human slipped back into the yard and snuck across to the hangers. The mans voice floated through the open windows of the trailer, mingled with the dogs whines, and a printer chugged to life. Hugging to the shadows, Grace moved to Hanger 4 and forced open the door. It gave a rusty shriek, and the grumbling in the trailer halted. The mans face appeared in the window, and Grace barely managed to duck into the dark room before he spotted her. After a moment the dogs barking resumed, and she released a breath she didn't know she had been holding as he went back to work. She squeaked the door shut and turned to survey the room.

It was the same as 'her' hanger: large, dirty, rusted, and utterly empty. She ran across the room to an empty stretch of wall and began poking and prodding the surface. Within a minute she had found the button and activated the lift. There was a groan of unused gears, and a slab of concrete slid aside to reveal a steel life, just like the on in Nevada. With only a moments hesitation, Grace leapt aboard and hit the 'down' button.

Cold greeted her as she stepped off the lift into a familiar steel hall. She pulled a small silver square from her pocket and shook it out to reveal a space blanket. Clutching it around her shoulders, the human opened the door on her right and flipped on the light.

Five unconscious, frozen giant robots greeted her. Each sported a red 'Autobot' face and Grace couldn't help but beam. The trip had been successful! She had found more of Prime's troops, and Bee's friends. _Take that, Ironhide! _

She turned the heater up and wandered into the hall. The room opposite proved to be empty, as did the larger room at the end. There was no door to a huge underground base beneath the catwalk, nor any rusted hunks of spaceship. A crash from the now-heated chamber grabbed her attention, and she sprinted back up the stairs and hall and peeked inside.

One of the mechs, mostly white with green and red accents, had tripped while stepping off the table. A large, blocky black mech chuckled as he helped his comrade up. The red mech (why did these robots like that color so much?) leapt gracefully off his table and stretched a grin crossing his face. A yellow mech stood a bit away from the others, arms crossed and glaring. He was carefully taking in the room, and was the first to spot Grace peering in.

"Human!" He snarled, drawing a gun from nowhere and aiming it at the door.

Grace squeaked in alarm and threw her hands up. Wait, wait! I can explain! Optimus Prime-"

The gun fired, and a smoke hold appeared beside her foot. She jumped to the side as the yellow mech approached, having a sudden, awful feeling of Déjà Vu.

"Sunstreaker, stand down!" The last mech in the room moved quickly, placing himself between the two. He was red and blue, and reminded her of someone.

"It's a _human_! They did this to us!" The yellow one yelled at the larger mech. "They took everyone! Prime, Jazz, Prowl," his voice broke, "Sides."

It clicked, and Grace cautiously stuck her head around the big mechs foot. "Are you Sunny?"

"Don't call me that!" He snarled.

She beamed. "You _are_! Bee and Hound and everyone have been so worried that they wouldn't find you!"

"Why?" The yellow mech sneered, "They need some heads smashed in?"

"No, they're worried about Sideswipe."

It was like a bomb went off. There was a whirlwind of movement, and a series of gunshots followed by the sound of some mech being hit on the head.

"Are you alright?"

It took a moment for Grace to realize that she was sitting in the large mechs hands. She glanced over the edge of his fingers and saw more smoking craters where she had been standing. Sunstreaker was lying on the ground, a rather large dent in his head, as the black and red mechs worked on disarming him.

"Does that run in the family?" She asked and at the mechs confused expression she elaborated, "Sideswipe tried to kill me the first time we met, too."

"That's odd," the green and red mech came over, "Sideswipe is usually the calm one."

Grace snorted in derision, "That's what everyone says," she muttered.

"Human," the mech holding her shifted, "Did you say you know where Optimus Prime is?" His optics fairly shined with hope.

"My name's Grace, actually, and yes, he's the one who sent me to thaw you out."

"My apologies, Grace. I am Ultra Magnus. This is Wheeljack, Blaster, and Trailbreaker. Sunstreaker you've already identified."

Blaster stuck his head into the hall, then looked back. "Where are they?"

"Up top, in the forest outside the camp. There's a human guard, and it was easier for me to slip in and wake you up."

"We are in your debt," Ultra Magnus bowed his head in thanks. "How are we to get out of here?"

Grace pulled out her cell as she explained. "Bee and Hound are going to make a distraction so we can sneak out. The lift in the last room should still work. Then we-" She stopped, staring in horror at the text messages scrolling across her screen:

**U OK G?**

**I DETECTED GUNFIRE. R U SAFE?**

**GRACE?**

**GRACE? ARE YOU HURT?**

**I M COMING DON'T WORRY!**

"Damn!" Grace had gone pale. "Put me down!"

Ultra Magnus did so. "What is wrong?"

"Bee heard, or scanned, or something, the gunshots! He's gonna break cover!" She sprinted down the hall to the lift and leapt over the gate, smashing the up button frantically with one thumb, texting with the other. "I'll be back, I swear," she promised the worried mechs who had followed her as the lift took her out of sight.

"Huh," Blaster grinned, "She reminds me of the twins."

"Don't tell her that," Ultra Magnus warned before sending Wheeljack to inspect the larger lift.

* * *

><p>Grace's worst fears were realized as she shouldered the door open. Bumblebee and the guard had their guns pointed at each other, and were snarling threats back and forth. Unfortunately for the girl, Spike was the first to spot her. With a howl of excitement, he galumphed over.<p>

"Agh, no! Call him off, call him off!" She threw up her hands and backed up against the door. Spike drooled happily as he sniffed her boots.

"Good boy, Spike! Keep her cornered while I take care of this ugly creature." The guard crowed in triumph.

All three were rather shocked when his rifle yanked itself out of his hands and flew across the yard to land in Wheeljacks outstretched fingers. He clenched his fist, destroying the weapon, and the fins on the side of his face flickered as he spoke. "I'd suggest you stand down."

The man paled, swayed, and then much to Grace's delight fainted dead away. Spike abandoned smelling her shoes in favor of sniffing his owner, and the girl sighed in relief.

"Wheeljack!" Bee holstered his gun and the two grabbed each others forearms in greeting. "Blaster, Breaker! Um, why is Sunstreaker dead?"

"He's not," Trailbreaker set the yellow twin down non-to-gently. "Magnus gave him a good thump after he tried to hurt your cute little human."

"Grace!" He practically teleported to her side and knelt down. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she smiled reassuringly, "but thanks for coming to my rescue. Again."

"You do have a bad habit of getting into trouble," Bee grinned, still running scans over the girl. "You're certain he didn't injure you?"

"Injured! Gracie-girl, what have you gone and done now?" Jazz had materialized in the yard out of seemingly nowhere, and was rocking back on his heels with a delighted grin.

There was a shout of 'Jazz!' and he found himself dog-piled by three excited mechs. Grace watched the scene with amusement. "What happened to keeping a low profile?"

"Sunstreaker shot at you."

"Oh, right." Grace watched Ultra Magnus emerge from the hanger, and Bee stiffened at her side.

"_Magnus_," he breathed, before bounding across the yard to embrace him. The large mech returned the embrace and spoke softly to the minibot. Grace surveyed the happy mechs and felt any lingering doubts about helping the Autobots disappear. These weren't evil giant robot aliens, they were just guys who missed their friends and family.

An arm reached around her throat and as the gun was snatched from her back pocket. Sam Witwicky snapped her head back and pressed her gun against her temple before dragging her back into the shadows, and away from her Autobots.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I take it back; I've been working through my grief by writing a lot more. Yay! Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up within the next month or so.

PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM!


	9. Chapter 8: This Can't End Well

**Murphy's Law**

**Chapter 8: This Can't End Well**

Sam Witwicky dragged his captive back behind the hanger wall, out of sight of the mechs, and pressed the gun harder against her forehead. One minute, he had been having an easy day, playing fetch with Spike, and now there were giant Japanese robots trying to take over the secret government facility _he _was in charge of guarding. This girl had shown up at the same time, and he just knew the two were connected!

"Tell me what the hell is going on! Right now!" He demanded, tightening his grip around her throat. The girl choked something, and he eased his grip a small bit. "What?"

In a quick move, Grace turned as much as possible and slammed her left arm into the mans nose, cast and all. Sam dropped the gun in surprise (he was, after all, a college student, not a soldier) and stumbled back, landing on his rear and nursing a gushing nose. The woman snatched up her gun, holstered it, then crouched down and cradled her aching arm to her chest with a groan.

"If you had a question," she growled when she got her breath back, "You could have just _asked_."

Sam used the sleeve of his shirt (which had once been a very nice button-down, but was now covered in dirt and blood) to mop up his nose, and glared at her. "Asked? ASKED? You're running around with a bunch of killer Japanese robots, trying to take over America, and I'm just supposed to _ask _ you what the hell is going on?"

Grace couldn't help it, she snickered. Then she giggled. Then she laughed out loud. "Japanese robots bent on taking over America? What are you, a B-movie writer?" She sat back and laughed until her ribs ached. "Oh jeez, I needed that." She had to smile at the scowling man in front of her. "I guess Murphy or Simmons or whoever didn't brief you either?"

Sams expression immediately shifted from anger and confusion to suspicion. "How do you know them?" He demanded.

"I work for them. Well, _worked_. Past tense." She paused as a thought occurred to her. "Out of curiosity, was Simmons a complete ass to you?"

Any doubt the man had about her making this up evaporated. "Not at first, but he saw my Gun dam DVD collection and tried to break them."

"Sounds like him," she waved a hand to dismiss the question, "Anyway. Did they ever tell you what was_ under _these sheds?"

"_Under _them? No. They said the hangers were empty, but the Japanese didn't know that, so I had to make it look like they had something important..."

"No wonder you thought the Autobots were Japanese. Murphy told me the Russians were after whatever had been in my hangers."

"Autobots?" Sam looked toward the end of the alley. "Is that what they are?"

Grace leaned against one of the hanger walls and stretched her legs out. "Yeah. Autobots. A species of giant robots from a planet called Cybertron."

"They're _aliens_?"

She ignored his choked whisper and continued. "They landed here about thirty years ago, and worked with the Government. They helped invent computers and chips and all sorts of other techno-babble stuff."

Sam yanked an MP3 player from his pocket and stared at it, as though expecting it to bite him.

"Anyway, something went wrong. I think they wanted to look at ways to improve synthetic oil, and it spooked some of the congressman who were backed by big-oil companies. They got to the President, and he had the 'bots frozen beneath these hangers."

"So how did you find out about them?"

She grinned. "It was an accident. I was poking around one of the hangers and found a lift, and when it took me down to the base below the hangers I woke them up. I was terrified of them too, at first. They're completely harmless, though."

A loud voice bellowing her name broke through their calm conversation, and Sam shot up on his feet in surprise. "Grace!"

Bumblebee poked his head around the corner of the hanger. "There you are! Are you alright?" He glared accusingly at Sam.

"Fine, Bee." The girl offered him a bright smile and slowly climbed to her feet. "I was just explaining some things to Sam."

Bee still had his optics narrowed at the man. "And what does _Sam _think of those things?"

To his credit, Sam didn't back down. At least this robot was smaller than the one that had taken his rifle. "I think...I think I need to lay down," he admitted shakily.

For the first time that night, the woman graced him with a real smile. "It is a lot to take in," she confirmed, reaching out to touch his arm. "You should go sit down for a while and think about it." He nodded, and followed her out into the yard, only to stop in horror and stare at the fifteen mechs within. Sound, which had been muffled around the corner, washed over them; metallic laughter, and an underline of Cybertronian. Sam winced; it sounded like a dial-up modem trying to connect while submerged in a pool.

The officers (including Ultra Magnus) were, once again, huddled in a circle and talking in low voices. Wheeljack and Blaster were standing beside them, listening in on their conversation. Trailbreaker, Hound and Bluestreak had found a stick, and were busy playing fetch with Spike (much to the puppy's' absolute delight). Cliffjumper was standing by the gate, acting as a guard and lookout, just in case. The last two mechs, to Grace's shock, were sitting a ways away from the others, back to back, optics shuttered, completely still and silent. If she hadn't know better, she wouldn't have recognized Sideswipe or Sunstreaker.

Sam, however, hadn't noticed the twins. "They're...playing with...Spike?" He asked uncertainly, watching as his dog caught the stick and bounded back to the large green mech, who laughed and patted his head.

Bee nodded. "Hound and Trailbreaker love dogs," he explained. "One of the researchers in Nevada had a big dog, and they enjoyed playing with him."

"They won't hurt your, uh, dog," Grace reassured him, taking him by the arm and leading him across the yard to the trailer, keeping a wary eye on Spike as she did so. He automatically climbed the steps and opened the door, holding it for her. She gave Bee a quick smile. "I'm going to answer his questions," she explained, "I'll let you know if I need you." She shoved Sam through the door, then leaned closer to Bee so the man couldn't hear. "Jazz can keep any e-mail or texts from being sent to the police or the government, right? I'm not sure I trust him." She neglected to mention that the man had shoved a gun in her face.

"Yeah, that's a piece of energon for Jazz." Bee nodded. "I'll wait here, just in case."

Grace grinned. "Thanks, Bee." She disappeared into the trailer, leaving the minibot to eavesdrop on their conversation, just in case. One could never be too careful around humans, after all.

* * *

><p>At eight forty-five the next morning, Grace awoke on a ragged couch with a crick in her neck. She groaned and rolled over on her back, throwing one arm over her eyes to shade them from the sun. Her other arm, fast asleep from being trapped under her side for most of the night, swung off the couch and knocked against a cup of cold coffee, sending it on it's side and soaking the beige carpet with a nice, brown tint.<p>

"Damn," she sat up, sore ribs protesting the movement, and looked around the trailer. It was nice, roomy but sparsely furnished, with a kitchenette, living area, and two doors; one leading to a bathroom and the other to a narrow bedroom. Same was no where in sight. A muffled thump came from the bedroom, explaining what had woken her up.

Rubbing her eyes, the ex-guard shuffled to the kitchenette and found a roll of paper towels in the cabinet under the sink. She used them to mop up the coffee, and dropped the mug (bright green with a Kermit the Frog face on it) into the sink. A second thump, followed by a curse, reached her ears. Slipping on her boots and belt, she went and knocked on the bedroom door.

There was silence for a moment, then the door was yanked open to reveal a beaming, over-caffeinated Sam Witwicky. "Good, you're awake! There's pop-tarts in the cabinet by the fridge, and I have orange juice in the fridge. Do you like OJ? I don't. He should have been found guilty." He turned back to his bed and continued to throw stuff into a large suitcase. "I'm almost ready to go!"

Grace stiffened, then frowned. "Go _where_, exactly?"

"With you and your friends." He slammed the top of his suitcase shut and leaned on it heavily, struggling to zip it shut.

"With...with me and my...my friends." Grace parroted back.

Sam turned and grinned at her. "Well yeah, of course. I thought about everything you told me last night," he dragged the suitcase off the bed and motioned for her to lead the way into the main room, "And I want to help. Another pair of hands can't hurt, right?"

The woman was floored. She had expected to have to drag a promise of silence out of him, and here he was, insisting that he was going with them. "Wait. You _want _to come with the giant robots that scared the shit out of you last night?"

"It's a once in a lifetime chance!" He insisted. "Besides, I wouldn't mind a closer look at one of those bots." He picked up a wrench from the kitchen counter and fingered it lovingly.

"I forgot, you're an engineer." Grace was still frowning. "Well, it's not up to me. You're going to have to ask Commander Prime if you want to come."

The man stopped tossing the tool from hand to hand in favor of staring at her. "What?" He had gone pale at the thought of actually _speaking _to one of the Autobots.

"You're going to have to ask _them _if you want to join us." The woman felt a smirk crawl across her face as she headed for the door. "I'll introduce you."

There was silence for a moment as she held the door open, and then hesitant footsteps followed her into the yard. Bumblebee was still sitting by the door, reading a data pad and idly scratching Spike on the head. There were no other bots in sight.

"Good morning Bumblebee," she chirped, ignoring Sams mutterings as he tried to physch himself for the coming conversation. Upon seeing his owner, Spike barked and leapt to his feet, jumping around eagerly. Grace took several steps away as the dog pawed at his owner, and circled around to stand beside the yellow minibot.

"Good morning Grace." The Autobot graced her with a wide smile. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. I'm a little sore still," she shrugged, picking at her cast.

He ran a quick scan over her, but didn't see anything wrong, other than a lack of sleep. "I heard your new friend wants to speak with Optimus." He ignored her scowl at the 'f' word and stood, pocketing his data pad.

"Where are the other bots, anyway?"

"In the bunker. Prowl didn't want to attract too much attention, in case one of the Agents showed up." He glanced at Sam, who was busy filling a large metal bowl from a plastic container of dog food, but snapped his gaze back to Grace as his optics dimmed slightly. "Ratchet says he wants to take a look at you."

"Why?" The girl had to admit, just to herself, that some Oxycontin would be heavenly at the moment.

"Because you're his patient," he explained with a grin, "And that means that if you're hurt, it's a personal insult to him."

"You're hurt?" Sam had finished feeding his dog, who was inhaling the food as though he'd never had a bite to eat before. "It wasn't – I mean, I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"

Grace scoffed. "No, you didn't. It was one of the..." She trailed off. An idea had come to her. An evil, wicked, positively dastardly idea. "I mean, it was an accident," she waved her hand to dismiss his concern. "C'mon, you need to speak with Commander Prime."

"Wait," Sam hurried after her as she headed for the hanger, "You mean one of THEM hurt you?"

"It was an accident." She repeated, giving him a blatantly false smile. "Come along, we don't want to keep Commander Prime waiting," she lowered her voice, "He has a terrible temper." Without looking back, she hurried across the yard to Hanger 4 and shoved the squeaky door open. Sam followed at a more subdued pace, wondering just what he had volunteered himself for. He joined her on the lift, and watched as Bumblebee closed the door to the hanger and stayed outside, to stand watch.

Grace stayed silent as the lift swiftly descended, keeping an uneasy frown on her face in order to unnerve the older man beside her. "It really was an accident," she said again as they reached the bottom, "He just didn't like what I said."

Sam, who had been so sure he wanted to join this amazing, science-fiction adventure straight out of his dreams, shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Who-who did it?"

She gave hm a rather vapid smile. "The big red one." Without another word she led him down the hall to the large hanger, where the fourteen robots were resting and planning their next move.

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime had been warned by Bumblebee that Grace was coming down, along with the compounds guard Sam Witwicky, who wished to join them.<p>

_'She doesn't seem pleased about him wanting to come,' _the perceptive minibot had warned.

_'Caution is a respectable trait,' _Prowl had interjected. While he would never admit it, he had rather enjoyed the humans intellectual conversation during the drive the day before. While she was not as intelligent as the scientists they had worked with before, she had proven to have a quick mind, and had eagerly listened to what they taught her about Cybertron during the long, boring hours on the highway.

_'I don't think it's caution,' _Bumblebee had advised before going back to guarding the hangers, and playing fetch with Spike. Prime was about to ask what he meant, when the door slid open to admit a rather pale Sam being led by a smirking Grace.

"Ah, Miss Grace!" Ultra Magnus had spotted her, and moved quickly to stand beside the catwalk.

"Hello," she greeted, ignoring Sams moan from behind her. "It was, um, Ultra Magnet, right?"

"Ultra Magnus," he corrected with a smile. "I wanted to thank you again for waking us last night." He bowed deeply. "We are in your debt."

A blush colored the girls cheeks. "Oh, no, it's fine," she gave him a bright smile. "You saved me from Sunny, so lets call it even, kay?"

He nodded and returned the smile. "Who is your companion?"

"This," Grace reached behind her, grabbed Sams arm and dragged him forward so his legs were pressing against the catwalk railing, "Is Sam Witwicky. He's the guard the government hired, and he wants to join us."

"Ah!" Magnus smiled brilliantly. "Well, I have never known my younger brother to turn away help." He turned and motioned for Prime to join them.

"Grace," Sam gave her a sideways look, noting her frown, "There are a _lot _of red robots in here."

She almost laughed out loud and looked over the mechs in the room. Other than the four officers, Prime and Magnus, they were sitting in robot or vehicle mood, sleeping (Bee called it recharging, and had found it odd that Grace laughed for half an hour over that), or talking to their comrades. The twins were sitting door-to-door in identical Lamborghini forms, ignoring everyone else like they had last night. Sideswipe, Blaster, Ratchet, Cliffjumper, even Prime and Magnus had red on them.

The two mechs returned, Prime's optics glowing bright above his face mask. "Hello Grace," he greeted in his calm, deep voice. "And you must be Samuel James Witwicky," He looked down at the man, who was swaying on the spot.

"Yes sir," he squeaked.

"My soldier Bumblebee has reported that you wish to join us on our mission." It was more of a statement then a question.

"Yes sir."

Prowl appeared at Prime's side and gave the man a stern look. "Why?"

Sam jumped at the new voice, and looked up into the navy optics, which were narrowed in thought. Not even thinking, he opened his mouth to answer. "To help."

"And why do you wish to help us?"

He gave the only other human in the room a sideways glance, but she had the same expectant expression that the black and white robot wore. "Grace told me about what the government did," he shifted nervously under the scrutinizing gazes, "and it was wrong."

Prowl raised one optic brow, looking amazingly like a skeptical teacher. "Is that all?"

Sam shifted his weight and thought carefully over the other reason he wanted to come. "Well, actually, I also wouldn't mind, I mean if it wasn't a problem," Grace elbowed him in the side. "I want to learn how you work!"

"How we work?" Wheeljack had popped up beside Magnus.

He nodded, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. "I'm an engineer."

"So am I!" The mech grinned, ear-fins flashing.

"I'm not sure we need two people blowing themselves up," Jazz smirked at Prime and Prowl. The former was grinning behind his mask, while the latter was nodding to himself about something.

"I believe it will be beneficial to have Mr. Witwicky accompany us," the police car finally said.

Prime was nodding in agreement. "We would appreciate having your help, Mr. Witwicky, although I must impress upon you the dangers of this mission."

Sam listened as Prime spoke of the possible battles and firefights, though it did nothing to deter his excitement. Grace glared silently at him, which did not go unnoticed.

"Miss Grace," Prowl motioned for her to follow him to the far end of the catwalk, out of earshot of Sam, who was still grinning. She followed him reluctantly. "Have you ever heard of the saying 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?" He asked.

"Yeah, of course," Grace crossed her arms and glanced back at Sam, who was being introduced to all the mechs by Hound.

The tactician followed her gaze. "Were we to leave Sam here to continue the facade of guarding the buildings, there would be no guarantee that he would remain silent. Even if he did not mean to, he could allow something to slip, and alert your government to our reawakening before we find the others. It is safer for our cause if he accompanies us."

Grace could see the logic in what he was saying, but she still didn't like it. The Autobots were _her _secret, _her _friends, they were supposed to be having this grand adventure together. Maybe it was petty and childish, but she had found them first. She crossed her arms stubbornly, but gave in. "Fine." She muttered, stalking back down the catwalk. "I'm going to talk to Ratchet."

Prowl watched her storm off with a quirked optic, and couldn't help but think of something Prime had told him thirty years ago.

_'They are a young race, but they have the potential to become great...'_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Yes, Grace is acting like a brat who won't share her toy. But how would you feel if someone tried to push themselves into your own fantastic journey?

I've been having some personal issues lately, but I've been looking forward to writing the next chapter for months now, so it should be up soon.

**Constructive Criticism is always welcome and appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note:**

Hello all, Ashana here! I'm sorry I haven't posted a new chapter lately, but I have an announcement. As some of you know, I lost my brother in a car accident in January and it has been hard to write since then. I've been trying to work on Murphy's Law, and realized something – I really don't like it. I don't like the way I've taken the story, or how I've developed the characters, especially Grace and her relationship with the bots. I also feel that I've overextended the cast.

So, at the moment, I am rewriting it. I will try and update the new story quickly. This one will remain up for a while, until I've reached the same point in the re-written version.

Thank you for reading, I really appreciate all the responses and thoughts you've given me. I'll have the new chapter up soon!

Love,

Ashana


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